Found, Never Lost
by Conny1908
Summary: Draco shows up at Harry's door seven years after they broke up and finds things a little different than expected. — Not HBP–compliant. — Post–Hogwarts. Post–War. — HP/OFC. HP/DM slash. - Do NOT read if the thought of Harry with a girl squicks you!
1. Prelude

**Disclaimer:** I have no intention of infringing upon any copyrights in connection with the Harry Potter Franchise. I am writing exclusively for my own – and hopefully others' – entertainment.

**Warning: **H/D slash in later chapters! It won't get too explicit, but I suggest you don't read this if you have a problem with sex between consenting males. **_Also_ _don't read if you are put off by the thought of Harry with a girl! _**There are no detailed descriptions, but some people can't stand even the idea that Harry might have a... female companion, especially an OC.

**A/N:** This story assumes the events that take place up to Chapter 18 in Anna Fugazzi's _Bond_ and is not HBP compliant. It is not a sequel to _Bond_ (more of an alternate ending, if you will) and it isn't necessary to read _Bond_ in order to understand _Found, Never Lost. _However, those of you who are familiar with _Bond_ will find hints to this wonderful fic sprinkled throughout my story. Thank you, Anna, for letting me reference your work!

* * *

**October 1999**

On a foggy Wednesday morning, he sent one of the Hogwarts owls to Ron and Hermione with a long letter, _Incendio_'d the last of Dudley's baggy old shirts, and boarded the Hogwarts Express to London with his Firebolt and his old, battered trunk which contained the few personal items that meant anything to him: the photo album Hagrid had given him after first year, his invisibility cloak, Sirius' letters, a clipping from the _Daily Prophet, _and his only set of dress robes.

Very late that afternoon, he left Gringott's Bank with some Muggle money in cash and a small plastic card which, so the Head Goblin assured him, would give him access to an account with the Bank of England that would be opened in his name on Monday morning. And if Mr. Potter wished to transfer money from his vault to said account in the future, he only needed to send a letter to a certain post office box and everything would be arranged immediately and discreetly.

It was amazing how much a well-filled vault could accomplish in such a short period of time, Harry thought as he walked along Diagon Alley towards the Leaky Cauldron. Too bad it could not keep him out of the paper. Quite the contrary: whenever they ran out of other gossip, the _Prophet _entertained the Wizarding world with speculations about who the lucky one would be that caught their hero's eye – and whether it would be a boy or a girl. It would have been nauseating if he hadn't been through it all before. Now it was just old and predictable and he was so very tired of it. _I'll give them something new to speculate about. _He smirked at the thought, pulling the hood of his old sweater over his head as he entered the pub.

He would have liked to stay at the Leaky Cauldron for a few days and explore London from there before venturing out into the Muggle world for good, but that was definitely not an option. People would recognise him and his whereabouts would make their way onto across the front page of the _Prophet _faster than he could say _Obliviate_. No, he needed somewhere else to go. A place where he could learn what he needed to know in order to live in the Muggle world without drawing attention to himself. And he knew exactly where to start. But first he had to make himself presentable. As much as it still hurt to think about Draco, he had – among other things – taught Harry to pay more attention to his appearance. Even Parkinson had made a remark one day that Harry looked "less scruffy" after a couple of months with Draco.

He needed new clothes and a haircut.

Fortunately, the road he stepped into from the Leaky Cauldron was in a quite busy part of town…


	2. Fool's Errand?

**_Chapter 1: Fool's Errand_**

******Friday, June 17, 2004**

Draco would certainly not have accepted her invitation to come in for a cup of tea if she had told him right away that Potter would not be home till midnight, but it was too late now. He was sitting at the kitchen table with a steaming mug in front of him while she was leaning against the counter, head cocked to the side, one eyebrow slightly raised, her blue eyes studying his face.

This was ridiculous! A Mal… wizard was never intimidated by Muggles. Yet here he was, feeling… vulnerable under this person's gaze. A few times he could have sworn he felt a tingling coming off of her that reminded him of magic, which was preposterous, of course. There was something about her that he could not place and it made him uneasy until he pushed the thought firmly out of his mind.

He had no idea how Harry had come to live with – what was her name again? Had she been attractive he would have wagered a guess as to what kind of relationship they had, but the most flattering description Draco could think of was "unusual". She was tall and skinny, and if she had any curves, they were hidden under the oversized white button-down shirt with rolled-up sleeves she was wearing over tight black leather trousers. Her hair was a wild, dark, frizzy mess - worse than Potter's had ever been! - and a sharp nose the most… prominent feature in her angular face. She seemed several years his senior and spoke English with an odd accent.

"So what brings you here, Draco?" she asked conversationally after the customary exchange of polite remarks about the weather in England, his flight, and how he liked the city so far.

Although he had introduced himself as Draco Malfoy and Granger had warned him that it was common among Muggles to address each other by their given names, he inwardly winced at hearing his from her lips. He doubted that he would ever get used to such rash verbal intimacy!

What should he tell her? He considered several replies, chose the shortest one that was still closest to the truth. "Harry's been gone a long time. His friends are... worried about him. They want to know how he is doing," he said cautiously. Back in school, Potter had certainly been good at keeping things to himself, but he had also let emotions get in the way of reason way too often. Merlin knew how much Potter had told this… roommate about his former life. Draco hoped it hadn't been too much.

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

It had taken Granger several years to track Potter down. Draco didn't know how, but done it she had – and, much to Draco's surprise, contacted him immediately, winning his respect and gratitude (which, of course, he wouldn't admit in public).

He wished she would have warned him that Potter was sharing a flat with someone, but even Granger could not know everything. It was reassuring to learn that there were limits to Granger's capabilities, Draco , how fast she had managed to… persuade him– of all people!– to venture into Muggle territory– of all places!– on such short notice to seek out Potter was somewhat… alarming.

Actually, come to think of it, the alarming thing was that he had been… flattered when she asked him to go. Although she had, of course, perfectly rational and absolutely logical reasons why somebody needed to go as soon as possible, why that somebody could be none other than Draco, and why nobody but the two of them must know about this. It was almost like she… trusted him, and that felt good (which, of course, he wouldn't admit to anybody. Anywhere. Ever!).

Although, there had also been that… speech about putting the past to rest and letting people move on with their lives… He didn't like to think about that one. It had made him wonder if Granger had had a wand up her sleeve and cast a wordless _Legilimens_ on him while they were talking. She had always been good at non-verbal spells. Well… what had Granger ever not been good at, except flying?

So now, one thing having led to another, here he was. On the Continent. In a city that, to the best of his knowledge, had no wizard population and, judging by first appearances, was inhabited by more than its fair share of morose old ladies, uncourteous elements, and straightout nutters.

Thank Merlin that Granger's preparations of his – for lack of a better word – mission included printed address cards for the taxi driver, getting him to the building where Potter lived quickly and with a bare minimum of contact to the locals.

Draco found himself adding a grudging admiration for Granger's organisational talents to his newfound respect – which was only slightly marred by the discovery that he had to climb six flights of stairs because Potter lived on the top floor and the building had no lift. And, of course, the fact that there were two name plates on the door…

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

Her eyebrow arched a little higher and she looked amused.

"His friends sent you to find him? What are you? A private investigator?"

Gods, this could get complicated. He did not feel like getting into a battle of wits with this… person. What had possessed him to rush into this like a foolish Gryffindor? He should have spent the night at the hotel first, then come here, rested and better prepared to deal with… things. Right. As if he would have been able to sleep. Or muster the courage to do this tomorrow.

He rubbed his eyes wearily.

"I'm sorry. It's been a long day. I should have made myself clearer. I'm… What I meant is that we all are worried about him… And we miss him…" He trailed off, not sure what else to say. Of course he could have made up some story about passing through on business and just stopping by to say hello to an old friend from school. However, for some reason he had the feeling she would detect the lie immediately, and that would be a bad thing. He knew he needed her goodwill if he wanted to get in touch with Potter.

She studied him for a long moment and he found himself unable to avoid her wide blue eyes. Her gaze reminded him uncomfortably of the way Potter used to look at him sometimes, as if he was searching for something in his face.

"Look, Draco," she said finally, "I know who you are. Harry has told me about… your relationship. Not a whole lot, but enough."

Thank Merlin he had decided to stick as close to the truth as possible!

Her voice was soft, her eyes still intent on his face. "He had his reasons for leaving England. And for staying away. What makes you think he would want to talk to you now?"

_Because he needs to hear me say that I've been a bloody idiot and that I'm sorry for not realising it sooner and if I could change the past, I would,_ he thought. But of course he would never admit to this total stranger that he had never stopped wondering where Harry was and how he was doing. That he was ashamed for not having had the backbone to stand up to his father and angry at himself for not using his brains, for not listening to Pansy because he was too stubborn to admit that she– or Potter, for that matter – had a point… or too afraid of his father to question Lucius' views of family loyalty and pride. That he needed to know Harry was alright, even after all these years.

"Listen," she finally said, not unfriendly, when he remained silent, "I hate to get in the middle of things and I probably shouldn't tell you this, but no matter who broke up with whom, it took him a long time to get over it. God knows he's one of the most stubborn people I have ever met in my life and he can be infuriating as hell, but he's also one of the sanest people around me. And he deserves to stay that way."

She paused, looked at him, seemed to make up her mind about something.

"How long you gonna be in town?"

He shrugged. "Over the weekend at least. Maybe longer."

"You got a place to stay?"

He nodded, grateful again for Granger's mastermind. She had, of course, fore seen that things might not go as smoothly as they both hoped and booked a hotel room for him for the whole week. Not that that was any of this woman's business, of course.

"Okay, here's the deal…" She handed him a notepad and pencil. "I think this is entirely up to Harry to decide. Leave your phone number. I'll tell him you were here. If he wants to talk to you, he can call you. If he doesn't call…" She looked at him and shrugged. He had a feeling she wanted him to complete the sentence, but he could not bring himself to say what she expected.

"I'll get you a cab," she said and picked up the phone.

This was his only chance.

"May I use the bathroom?"

"Sure." She pointed at a door further down the hall.

The room was small - barely large enough for a shower stall, sink, toilet, and two shelves - but clean. He had never understood how Potter could tolerate a messy study or living area but keep the washroom spotless.

Much to Draco's relief, one of the shelves obviously belonged to a man.

He would need to put the spell on something Potter used frequently and would most likely take with him should he go anywhere for an extended period of time. Guessing what belonged to whom could have been tricky, but thanks to whoever the organiser was around here, Draco quickly found what he was looking for. He tapped his wand to the razor and drew a symbol around it.

"Sequiate Harry Potter."

It was a fairly weak tracking charm but he didn't dare use anything stronger. Even after several years among Muggles, Potter might be able to pick up on magical residue, possibly even look for it when he heard that Draco had been here. And maybe those who specu lated that the Da… that Voldemort had transferred more or even all of his powers to Potter when Potter killed him were right, making it even more important to use magic very sparingly.

Draco flushed the toilet, washed his hands, and stepped back into the corridor. He hoped he would not have to start chasing after Potter, but at least now he had a chance of finding him a bit more easily should he decide to move again.

"Your cab will be here in a minute. I'll show you out."

"Thank you… Star." Thank goodness he had finally remembered her name!

She nodded, smiling.

"Good night, Draco," she said and closed the door.

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

Draco stepped out the front door into a balmy evening. The taxi was waiting for him. He climbed in the back seat and handed the driver the card of his hotel, apologising for not speaking German. According to Granger this was the polite thing to do, even if people could not understand him. Draco found it rather ridiculous to explain in English to someone who didn't speak his language that he didn't speak German, but he took Granger's word for it. What did he know about Muggles, after all?

Seconds later he wished he had kept his mouth shut. Not only did the driver understand him perfectly, she also started babbling incessantly about being enrolled in English and American Studies at some university in town and just having returned from an exchange semester in the United States, constantly glancing at Draco in the rearview mirror while she weaved through masses of vehicles of all shapes and sizes at alarming speed.

Draco was thoroughly relieved when they finally stopped. How anybody could stand this noise and chaos was beyond him. What in Merlin's name had driven Potter to live as a Muggle? He shuddered. All he wanted now was a quiet room, a nice hot bath, and something to eat.

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

Harry smiled when he heard the bathroom door open. It was way past midnight. He had been careful not to make too much noise when he came home from work, in case Star was already asleep, but he had hoped she would still be up, and here she was.

"Want me to wash your back?"

He knew she didn't expect an answer. She merely asked as a way of announcing her presence. He leaned forward to let water wash over his head and seconds later felt her arms around his waist.

"Long day?" she asked, nuzzling his neck, holding him tight for a moment. He chuckled and resisted the urge to turn around and kiss her. Instead, he leaned back into her embrace, covering her hands with his, following them as they slid up his stomach, across his chest and down his sides, coming to rest on his hips.

"Hm-mm."

Her hands were withdrawn briefly, then returned, soapy and slick, and started wandering over his body again, massaging firmly in some spots, rubbing gently in others. He was just beginning to really relax and appreciate the effects of her attention when she nudged him under the shower to rinse off.

"There you go. Back's all clean. Now wash the rest and come to bed."

She slipped out of the shower, laughing at his noise of protest.

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

Draco felt like he had been tossing and turning around in the unfamiliar bed forever, kept awake by the myriad noises of a big city night.

It had been past nine o'clock when he arrived at the hotel where he was informed by the receptionist that "Mrs Weasley" had called this morning to confirm his arrival later this evening. His suitcase had been sent directly from the airport and was already in his room. She handed him his code card. "Welcome to Berlin, Mr. Black," she said, "enjoy your stay."

His room on the sixth floor – thank Heavens this building had a lift! – offered a good view over what seemed to be a downtown borough and he looked out the window for a while, watching the sun set and lights blink on all over the city.

Although slightly different from the ones Granger had shown him in her home, the bathroom fixtures posed no problem and he ran a bath while he rang Granger. He reached her – what did they call it? "voice mail", - but didn't leave a message. It felt too odd to talk to a Muggle machine. He would just have to try again tomorrow.

A welcome package next to the telephone informed him in English and several other languages that the hotel restaurant closed at nine but room service was available until midnight. The clock showed past ten when he got out of the tub. Room service it was, then – which suited him just fine because he definitely had had more than enough contact with the Muggle world for one day.

He ordered a sandwich and went straight to bed after he had eaten, but despite his exhaustion sleep refused to come. Instead, his mind kept running through recent events.

All in all, things had gone pretty well, he thought. Granger had taken him to Heathrow Airport with enough time to spare to show him around and explain things to him. To his relief, nobody took any notice of them. This was not really a surprise, considering how many Muggles in every conceivable stage of ambulation from strolling to running surrounded them. But it made him feel less nervous nonetheless. And once he had become accustomed to the crowds, he found them surprisingly fascinating to watch and listen to. He knew, of course, that Muggles lived in foreign countries and on different continents, just like wizards, but he had never seen such a variety of people and heard so many languages together in one spot.

The flight had been uneventful, and although he could certainly spend the rest of his life without ever setting foot on an airplane again, that, too, had been an interesting, albeit slightly... intimidating experience.

And the conversation with Potter's roommate hadn't been too bad. Awkward, yes, but not really unpleasant. Just… strange. He wondered if she would keep her word and tell Potter that he had asked for him, and what he would do if he didn't hear from Potter. Now that thought was definitely unpleasant! He needed to sleep. It was almost one o'clock in the morning and whatever awaited him tomorrow, it would be easier to deal with in a well rested state of mind. He reached for his wand. Granger had been adamant about using magic only in emergencies, but what the heck.

_"Dormitas."_

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

Her hand stopped tracing patterns on his skin, came to rest over his heart.

"Your old friends have found you," she said quietly.

Harry looked at her for a moment. Smiled.

"That was faster than expected."

He lifted her hand off his chest to kiss her palm and she gently caressed his cheek. Put her hand back over his heart.

"Who called?" he finally asked.

"Nobody." She chuckled at his frown. "Somebody showed up."

"What? Here!"

She rolled her eyes. "Of course here. Where else?"

"Who was it?" he asked, surprised.

She just looked at him with her best "take a wild guess" face. He stared back at her, not sure he liked who his thoughts immediately turned to. Didn't want to ask. Had to.

"Draco Malfoy."

It wasn't really a question and he didn't need to see her nod to know he was right.

Suddenly his heart seemed to slow down and beat very loud.

_Heaven help me,_ he thought, _him I would have never expected._

Of course he had anticipated that a book titled _The Cupboard Under the Stairs_ would catch somebody's attention sooner or later (even though his name did not appear in it). Star, of course, had declared that that was why he had consented to the title in the first place. She took it as a sign that he was finally done running and ready to deal with his past. "Ja ja, Sigmunda," he had teased her and shut her up with a kiss.

He knew she was right, but did the first person from his past he would have to deal with have to be Draco Malfoy? He groaned.

"Why couldn't it be Hermione?"

"Hmmm… Because your luck had to run out some day?"

He poked her in the ribs. "You're not taking this very seriously."

She grinned.

Actually, he was surprised that they had tracked him down so quickly. The book, printed about a year ago in a limited edition by a scientific publisher, had been written by Susan Crane, a friend of Star's who was working on her doctorate in Counselling Psychology at theBirmingham Psychological Institute. Star had invited her to dinner one day and somehow he had ended up as one of the research subjects for her thesis soon afterwards. He still wasn't sure how exactly that had happened. Or why he had agreed to do it. Or how he had made it through more than a year of reliving childhood nightmares and baring his innermost thoughts to somebody who would put it on paper and, eventually, on the shelves of bookstores. But he was glad that he had done it.

"Did you talk to him?"

"Yep. Dragged him in, sat him down at the kitchen table and gave him a good talking to. Poor guy didn't know what hit him. Didn't say much. Gave me some odd looks. Bit of a xenophobe, if you ask me. Not bad-looking, though, if you like blonds."

Harry knew she was not being serious, but he found it impossible to resist Star when she was in mischief mode. He laughed despite himself, realising that she made this a lot easier for him.

"What did you tell him?"

"That you had your reasons to leave England and stay away. And I asked him what is different now and why he thinks you would want to talk to him."

"And?"

She shrugged.

"He didn't say anything. Not that I expected him to. But I hope has answers for _you_."

Harry frowned.

"What makes you think I will talk to him?"

"What was your first thought when you realised it could be him?" she asked back.

"Heaven help me," Harry answered truthfully.

She raised an eyebrow and gave him a quizzical look. "And you need me to tell you why you're going to talk to him?"

He smiled. "Things just make more sense when you say them out loud," he said and drew her closer. "What should I do?"

"Hmmmm…" She pushed herself up on one elbow. The fingers of her right hand resumed their journey, slowly, gently, barely touching his skin. Neck. Shoulder. Left arm. "Go see him," she said finally, fingertips travelling upwards on his stomach, across his chest. "You've been wondering too long if leaving was the right thing to do." She smiled and kissed his cheek. "It's a chance for you to complete the past. You need it. Actually, I'd say you both do."

"So you're telling me to get on with it?" He lifted his head and caught her mouth with his.

She smirked and rolled half on top of him. "Absolutely," she said and sat up, straddling his thighs. "Ready?"

Harry laughed. "I thought you'd never ask!"

* * *

**Footnote: **For those of you who were wondering: "Sigmunda" is a pun in reference to Dr. Sigmund Freud, the "father of psychoanalysis".


	3. Good to See You

**A/N: **Thank you, blue dragon, Actias luna, dede, Eliora, avihenda, and Anime Monster for your encouraging feedback.

I hope this chapter answers some of your questions. More answers will be forthcoming shortly.

**Another note:** Times are given in 24h notation (hh:mm). The time zone is CET (Central European Time) for Berlin and GMT (Western European Time Zone; CET -1) for London. 

* * *

**_Chapter 2: Good to See You _**

**Saturday, June 18, 2004  
****10:00 Berlin (9:00 London) **

"Hello, Hermione."

Her heart skipped a beat at the sound of the voice she hadn't heard in so long and she sat down a little too hard, causing Rose to kick her forcefully in protest.

"Harry?" she managed, feeling her voice shake a little bit, "is that you?"

_Oh please no!_ Harry thought. Hermione sounded as if she would tear up, which made him slightly nervous.

"Er... last time I looked in the mirror it was," he said, trying to be silly in the hope that it would distract her from crying. He had never completely got over the Cho debacle in fifth year. Star didn't cry. Of course, Star had been a grown woman when they first met. As a matter of fact, he found it impossible to even imagine her as a girl. And she was the only female companion he had ever had; therefore, even the remote possibility of Hermione starting to cry brought back unpleasant memories and rendered him almost as helpless as Cho's tears had all those years ago. Marvellous! Dr. Crane would have a field day with this. It was good that she would never hear about it.

"Hermione, are you okay?" he asked, after a few moments of awkward silence.

"Yes," she said, sounding suspiciously as if she was stifling a sob, "yes, I'm fine. Sorry. Just a little surprised, that's all." She took a deep breath. "It's so good to hear your voice, Harry. How are you? And how did you get my phone number?"

Harry nervously ran a hand through his hair. God, he felt awful all of a sudden! He had been to hell and back with Hermione and Ron. More than once. They had stuck together through thick and thin, and then he had simply decided to… abandon them. And now he was talking to Hermione and she seemed happy – happy! – to hear from him instead of bombarding him with a volley of reproaches.

"Directory inquiries gave me the number. And I'm… good. I'm okay. Really…" He trailed off. "How did you find me?" he blurted out.

Hermione was glad Harry couldn't see her right now because her face felt like a red hot poker.

"I read _The Cupboard Under the Stairs_ and I… uh… have friends at the Institute. They wouldn't tell me anything, of course, but one of them accidentally dropped a hint and it wasn't too difficult after that," she said, hoping he would never find out that she had used somewhat… dubious methods to obtain his address. That she had tricked Dr. Crane's assistant Betty – well, let's be honest – she had basically broken into the girl's rolodex. She would have Confunded her if necessary! Fortunately for them both, the index cards listed the actual names and contact information of Dr. Crane's patients and research subjects. In Harry's case, this included the name "Star" and several crossed-out telephone numbers, as well as one that appeared to be current. It was obviously not a number in England, but it had been easy enough for her to find out what she needed to know.

To her relief, Harry seemed satisfied with this explanation because he didn't ask for details.

"Why did you send Draco after me?" He didn't think anything could have sounded tackier than his previous question, but there it was.

"Well, I would have come myself, but I couldn't. I'm due in a couple of weeks."

"What?"

Hermione couldn't suppress a giggle. Dear old Harry, still slow on the uptake sometimes.

"I'm pregnant, you dolt! Ron and I are going to have a baby!"

"Oh…," was all he could manage and suddenly she saw him in her mind's eye; opening and closing his mouth, green eyes wide, running a hand through his hair, blinking sheepishly, not knowing what to say, and it was all too much. She started laughing and tears started streaming down her face, and she was not sure if she was just crying or having a hysterical breakdown.

"God, Harry, we miss you so," she said, and now she was definitely sobbing, leaving Harry at an even greater loss for words. "I've been so worried since your last letter and then you stopped writing and… and we couldn't invite you to the wedding… and Ron's been beside himself and the Weasleys too… and now somebody else has to be Rose's godfather…"

"Who? What?" Harry asked, puzzled. "Hermione, you're babbling."

"Yeah, well…" She snuffled and struggled to compose herself. "You try being eight months pregnant and see how you're holding up when your long-lost once-best friend calls after years and years and acts as if nothing's happened!"

"Thank you, but I'd rather not," he said dryly, remembering how he had almost fallen for Draco's story of wizards having babies… that day at the lookout point… Harry gulped and slammed a mental door in the face of an army of memories.

Much to his relief, his last remark elicited a giggle. "I can't blame you," she said. "I'll be glad when it's over. I hate feeling like a beached whale all the time."

And they laughed together and Harry felt better.

"Why didn't you just call me? Or write?"

"I… was afraid you'd be… angry with me for looking for you," she confessed, "and I was afraid you'd just… disappear..."

Harry felt deeply ashamed. Hermione, one of his oldest and best friends, had been afraid that he would sneak away from her like a bloody coward. What had he been thinking! It made him wonder why the Sorting Hat hadn't put him in Hufflepuff. He swallowed.

"I… don't know what to say, Hermione. I am so sorry. I shouldn't have left like that. It's just…"

"It's okay, Harry, really. I understand," she interrupted, "all your friends do. And it's not like you haven't been in touch at all. I always told the others about your letters and they were happy to hear from you. We just wished we could write back, that's all."

He took a deep breath, recovering a little.

"So how is everybody?"

"Oh no, Harry James Potter! I refuse to answer any such questions over the telephone. You will kindly make the effort to visit and find out for yourself."

Harry smiled. This was more like the old Hermione. How well he remembered that tone – and the determined face that went with it.

"I will. I don't know when, but I promise I will. You know that I never meant to stay away forever. I just needed a break and time to think and then… things just kept happening."

"I know," she said softly, wondering briefly if this Star person was one of those "things" and why he had never mentioned her in the notes he'd sent her occasionally. She changed the subject.

"So have you talked to Malfoy yet?"

"No. I was at work when he came by. My… roommate took a message." He felt a stab of guilt at calling Star his roommate but he couldn't think of anything better to say. _My girlfriend? Lover? Bedmate? The woman I live with? _She was all and none of these things. There was no simple term for their relationship and he had yet to find the single word that came close enough to describing it.

"Are you going to, though? Talk to him?" she asked, finding it very hard not to ask him whether this "roommate" was the same person he had been living with when _The Cupboard Under the Stairs_ was published.

Harry felt his face grow hot. "You still haven't told me why you sent him, of all people," he reminded her. "And how did you manage to, anyway?"

"Well, I couldn't very well ask people with families to go off on some wild-goose chase, now could I? And those of us who don't have families or are currently pregnant can't just take time off work out of the blue – if we can even be reached. Some of us happen to be residing on the other side of the globe these days."

She paused for a moment.

"Malfoy was the only one who was available on short notice. Plus he has the time and enough money to travel."

"That doesn't explain why he agreed to come, though. Come on, Hermione, we both know Draco. He wouldn't do something like that just out of kindheartedness."

_Maybe not out of kindness,_ Hermione thought, _but hopefully from his heart._ She took a deep breath.

"Actually, he owled me not long after you had left, asking if we could meet, and I was too curious to turn him down, so we met for dinner in London. He said he needed to get in touch with you and he seemed really stressed when I told him nobody knew where you had gone or what your plans were, so I said I would try to find out and let him know if I did." She chuckled. "From his reaction on Monday, I'd say he had pretty much given up on me by then. He definitely didn't expect to be sent after the goose, so to speak. Fortunately, he didn't put up too much resistance. I'm not very patient these days and if he had made a fuss, I might have tried one of Ginny's new hexes on him."

Harry laughed. "I bet that threat got him moving. Do you remember that one time on the train, when a whole bunch of us hit him and Crabbe and Goyle with all those spells? I almost felt sorry for them afterwards!"

Hermione felt her face burn, gladder by the minute that he could not see her.

"I… um… didn't threaten him. I mean, I would have, but I didn't have to. He sounded… pleased when I asked him if he would go, once he had recovered from the initial shock. He argued a little, of course, but I could tell that his heart wasn't really in it. I think it was mostly because he's never been to the Muggle world and-"

But Harry had just caught onto something and interrupted her. "Wait a second! Are you telling me you contacted him last Monday, for the first time in years, and he shows up here on _Friday_?"

"Well, yes. I owled him right after I got your address."

"..."

"Harry?"

"I don't know what to say," was all he could think of.

**Berlin, 11:00 (10:00 London)**

"About time you hung up, Granger. I've been trying to ring you for an hour and I haven't even had breakfast yet."

"And good morning to you too, Malfoy. How do you like Berlin?"

"How much do you think I could possibly have seen of the place between eight o'clock last night and eleven o'clock this morning?"

"You got me there," she admitted cheerfully. Right at this moment, she doubted that even the worst Malfoy sneer could put a dent in her good mood. She had heard from Harry and he was okay and he had agreed to visit and said he would think about being Lilian's godfather… Well, after she had sworn a holy oath that she really, really would not nag him to move back to England any time soon. But the important thing was that he had said he would think about it, which, if she still knew Harry, was more of a yes than a no.

"Have you talked to Harry yet?"

"No, Granger, I haven't, and if your line hadn't been busy, I could have told you."

It was almost impossible for her to keep a straight face. "Well, first my mother called…" Oh, she was going to enjoy this! "And then I was on the phone with Harry."

There was a profound silence on the other end and she considered savouring – just for a few moments – the fact that she had rendered him speechless, but then she simply couldn't bring herself to make anybody suffer today, not even Draco Malfoy.

"If I were you, I'd stay in my room and off the phone for the next thirty minutes. Do you have a piece of paper and a pen?"

"What?"

"Paper. And a pen."

"Why?"

"To write down a number."

"Number?"

"Harry's phone number, you twit! Just in case…"

**Berlin, 11:15**

Harry took a deep breath and tried Draco's number again. This time he got a dial tone. _Please put me out of my misery,_ he thought and swallowed. _Pick up!_ His heart was pounding and he felt slightly ill.

A click indicated that the receiver on the other end was being lifted.

"Hello?"

Who would have thought that a voice could strike like lightning?

"Hello, Draco."

Had he known that he just did the same as an eight-months-pregnant, Muggle-born witch an hour ago, Draco might have made more of an effort to stay on his feet. As it was, he sat down on the nearest chair. And even the highest degree of denial would not let him blame the sudden weakness in his knees on the fact that he had missed breakfast.

"H… Potter. How nice of you to call."

Harry felt better immediately. He knew that haughty, clipped tone only too well. Draco was as nervous as he was. Which meant that he could get particularly sarcastic if caught on the wrong foot. Which meant that he had to avoid a lengthy telephone conversation. Which meant that unexpected behavior was in order.

"I'll come pick you up for lunch. Meet me in the lobby at noon?"

Judging from the brief silence on the other end, he had struck the right note.

"Okay."

"Great! See you soon."

"Right."

As much as Draco hated to admit it, there was no way he would be able to eat anything now.

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

Harry stared at the kitchen table for a long moment, his hands on the tabletop, then closed his eyes and dropped his head onto his arms, listening to his heartbeat, waiting for his pulse to slow down. Until a few minutes ago, it still had seemed somewhat… unlikely, but now reality was sinking in: Draco was here. In Berlin. Thirty minutes away. And he had no idea how he felt about that. He inhaled deeply and sat back up. If he wanted to be on time, he needed to get going. He picked up his keys and wallet and walked out the door.

**Berlin, Hotel Wilmersdorfer Hof, 12:00**

The underground ride did little to calm his nerves. If anything, it gave him enough time to become annoyed with the butterflies in his stomach. And it awakened his old friend Impatience. He wanted to get the awkward first seconds over with and feel like a human being again.

This was lunch with Draco he was walking into, he told himself, not a Potions exam. Not that it was any less… unnerving, but at least he would not have to stay and struggle through anything unpleasant.

Such as brewing an anti-acne potion with the ridiculous name of Stopsspots. Under pressure of time. And have Snape breathing down his neck and looking thoroughly displeased when the potion, for once, turned the right colour at the right moment. Harry remembered Snape's face that day with immense satisfaction – and suddenly found himself in front of Draco's hotel. What was it the cartographers of old used to put on their maps to mark uncharted territory? "Hic sunt leonis"? Well, in his case it was "hic sunt draconis". And he'd be damned if he let that bother him! He drew himself up to his full –although not terribly impressive – height of 5'11'' and pushed through the revolving entrance door.

He spotted Draco immediately. _No surprise there, _he thought, a grin starting to spread across his face. When Draco wanted to be noticed, he made sure that nobody could miss him. He was sitting in the middle of the foyer, facing the door, a newspaper hiding most of him except the top of his white-blond head.

Harry had no doubt that Draco had seen him, so he would not do him the favor of hesitating. A few determined steps brought him in front of the person who, for a few months, had made his life as sweet as he had made it bitter for years.

He pushed his glasses up on his nose and tsk'd, grinning.

"Trust a Malfoy to turn up for a city tour wearing dress shoes."

"Thanks, Potter," came the familiar drawl from behind _The Times _before the newspaper was lowered. "You said something about lunch, not tours." Familiar grey eyes looked Harry up and down. Settled on Harry's face. Expression neutrally polite. Unreadable. "And you clean up nicely yourself."

And trust Draco to still be a brilliant actor, Harry thought, unable to suppress a smile.

"Hello, Draco. It's good to see you." He meant it.

Folding the paper and neatly placing it back on the side table gave Draco the few moments he needed to regain control over his slightly trembling legs. Thank Heaven, the worst was over!

He stood up from his armchair and when he looked at Harry, he returned his smile.

"It's good to see you too, Harry," he said.

* * *

**P.S.:** Now that the last two chapters of "Bond" are up, it appears that this story is almost like an… AU to an AU? Is that a good thing? Bad thing? Embarrassing? Anything?


	4. Out to Lunch

**A/N:** Thank you, Actias luna, Anime Monster, bjon66, and Eliora for your feedback on the previous chapter. You keep me going, guys!

And a **special thanks to you, Anna, **for your encouraging words on Chapter 1. None of this would have found its way into my imagination, onto paper, and eventually into MS Word (and onto your computer screens) if it hadn't taken a while for _Bond_ to be updated after Chapter 18. ;)

* * *

**_Chapter 3: Out to Lunch_**

**Still Saturday, June 18, 2004 **

**Hotel Wilmersdorfer Hof, 12:00**

"It's good to see you, too, Harry."

Fortunately, Potter seemed to have missed his slip of the tongue. He still had the habit of running a hand through his hair, Draco observed, but the nervous gesture didn't leave his head looking like a crow's nest anymore because he was wearing his hair cropped short these days. It looked good on him. And it was amazing how much difference it made that his clothes actually fit, even though it was a rather unimaginative look: black denims, trainers, and a short-sleeved, black-and-green checkered shirt, worn unbuttoned over a white t-shirt.

"Well, I'm certainly glad I needn't be ashamed to appear with you in public," he stated.

_Okay, this hasn't been too bad, _Harry thought, relieved that the nausea he had felt since this morning was finally subsiding. Breathing was easier, too. Apart from the fact that he could not get his facial muscles under enough control to stop grinning, he thought he was holding up quite well.

"Thank you," he replied dryly. "Ready to go play tourist?"

Draco arched an eyebrow. "Do I have a choice?"

"Afraid not," was the cheerful response.

"Well, after you then, Potter." He gave Harry a mock bow, gesturing towards the door, and Harry felt a strong urge to poke him in the ribs and tell him to kindly call him Harry instead of Potter. It would be nice to hear Draco say his name again. It might make things easier, too. On the other hand, if Draco needed to be on a last-name basis to feel more comfortable, Harry was not going to push him. He turned around and headed for the door.

"What do you want to do first?" he asked when they stepped out into the busy street, "go eat or go sightseeing?"

"I haven't eaten yet, so lunch would be good."

Harry nodded, noting the fact that he had not been the only one too nervous to eat today.

"We can still get breakfast if you like," he suggested.

"Breakfast? At noon?" Draco was astonished.

"Sure, why not? Some places serve breakfast round the clock." He smirked at Draco. "Great for sleepyheads like you."

Draco smirked back. "Got me there, Potter."

_I know,_ Harry thought, remembering the many times at Hogwarts he'd had to drag Draco out of bed in the morning – sometimes bodily. He glanced at him furtively. Draco looked good. He had filled out a little and wasn't quite as angular anymore. To Harry's surprise, his hair now fell past his shoulder blades, which took getting used to because it reminded him of Lucius Malfoy, but it suited Draco. Although, wasn't that against wizarding tradition? He didn't remember if Draco had said that _only _married wizards wore their hair long…

They reached a building covered in bright red tiles with the large sign "Fehrbelliner Platz".

"Ever been on the metro?"

"Actually, I have. Granger gave me a crash course in Muggleism before she put me on that airplane." Draco grimaced.

Harry chuckled. "Good old Hermione. Never does things by halves." He handed Draco a small paper card. "I got you a day ticket on the way. You'll need to stamp it over there. Arrow side up." Draco inserted the card into the only visible opening on the red box Harry indicated. The machine rattled and clanked.

Most things Muggle seemed to involve noise, Draco thought as they descended a staircase. Things beeped or rang or dinged incessantly, not to mention the constant roaring, honking, and wailing of vehicles in the streets and the general din of millions of people breathing, walking, laughing, talking…

"You okay?"

He startled a little at the sound of Potter's voice.

"What? Oh… Yeah… sure."

"What were you thinking about?"

"Noise."

As if on cue, a low rumble and screeching brakes announced the approach of the underground. Draco covered his ears, a pained expression on his face.

Harry nodded sympathetically. "It takes a while to get used to," he said, waiting for a multi-faced crowd to disembark before stepping onto the train. "As do the battalions of strangers," he muttered under his breath.

"No kidding," came Draco's dry comment from only slightly behind and to the right of him.

For the umpteenth time since he had started this whole undertaking, Draco mentally thanked Granger for insisting on "acclimatising" him to big city life by shooing him around London for two days. Otherwise, he would have found it much harder to resist the urge to step closer to Potter this very moment and grab hold of his… shirt or something, to make sure they could not get separated by the mad maelstrom of people. During his years in Prague, he had hardly ever ventured into the Muggle part of the city, and Berlin – although only half the size of London – was still at least twice as big as Prague, making for much larger crowds, more vehicles, more noise and dirt…

"So what was Hermione's crash course like?" Harry asked after they had sat down. He remembered his first time in London and how insecure he had felt. It must have been even worse for Draco, who probably had had no prior experiences with the Muggle world.

"She dragged me back and forth across London for two days and talked and talked and talked. It was… exhausting," Draco admitted.

"Who? Hermione or London?"

"Both."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, she can definitely be a bit… demanding."

Draco shook his head. "How you survived her mother-hennishness with your sanity intact will forever remain a mystery to me."

"Thanks. I take that as a compliment."

"Don't get too used to it, Potter."

Harry resisted another strong urge to poke Draco in the ribs.

"Be nice to your tour guide! You'll get much better food and see much more interesting places that way!"

They grinned at each other and it suddenly struck Draco how extremely odd the situation was.

Seven years ago, they had been at each other's throats more and more frequently until they reached a point where passion could no longer bridge the gap. _We were both so scared back then, _Draco thought. Harry, knowing that he was going to go after the Dark… after Voldemort and that he would not be able to keep his friends out of danger, that they would follow him to whatever end. And Draco, knowing that he would not be among them.

Oh, Father had made sure that the Death Eaters never summoned him into their ranks, and to this day, Draco was not sure whether Lucius had done it to protect his son or if he was simply ashamed of him. But Draco's contempt for Dumbledore and his do-gooders had been too deep to defect to the other side. Or so he had thought at the time.

"Don't you see that this is about what kind of world we want to live in?" Potter had one day shouted at him in exasperation. "Do you want to live in a world where people can't be together or get shut out or even killed because of who their parents and grandparents and fucking great-grandparents were? Because I certainly don't! If you still believe all that pureblood superiority shit, after everything your father has done to you, I feel sorry for you."

And Draco had sneered and made a waspish remark about foolish Gryffindor beliefs and Muggles being incapable of truly understanding the wizarding world, because, as usual, he refused to even consider the _possibility_ that Harry could have a point: that Voldemort could be a deluded megalomaniac whose political propaganda was only a decoy to manipulate powerful wizards into aiding him in his personal revenge.

By that time, their fights had developed a certain pattern. They would disagree, one would get angry and the other defensive, their voices would rise with their tempers until one of them – mostly Harry – reined himself in and mumbled something along the lines of "I shouldn't have…" or "I didn't mean to…" or "I'm sorry…" And they would kiss desperately and, for a precious little moment in time, let their bodies take them where they could forget the things that separated them and find peace in each other.

But then Harry broke the pattern. Instead of swallowing the bait of Draco's sneers, he looked at him in an odd way. "I can't do this anymore, Draco," he said quietly. "I'm so tired of fighting over the same things all the time. I just don't have… You know that we'll never get anywhere like this." He sighed and squeezed the bridge of his nose. Took a deep breath. When he looked at Draco again, Draco saw something in his face that had not been there in a long time: walls. And then he pulled him close and hugged him fiercely and spoke so softly that Draco could barely hear him.

"We have to stop this or we'll start hating each other again."

He leaned his cheek against Draco's, who just stood there, too confused to move or speak.

"I don't want to hate you," he whispered, and Draco realized that Harry was trembling and an unpleasant feeling began to spread out from his stomach.

"I'm going to go after him. You know that I have to. The bastard murdered my parents and he's been trying to kill me since I was a year old. I'm tired of it. I'm not going to sit here and wait for him to come and get me. Nothing you can say will change my mind. And nothing I can say will change yours."

Harry straightened up and lightly brushed his lips against the corner of Draco's mouth.

"We just… can't be together, Draco, not until all this is over."

"Where are you going?" Draco blurted out, stunned, not knowing what else to say.

"Order's headquarters. I could tell you where that is but then I'd have to kill you." Harry tried to sound light-hearted but his smile was sad and his eyes were a little too bright. And then he stepped back. Turned. Started to walk away. Draco's "Wait" swallowed by the folds of his robes. Gone.

And yet here they were, laughing as if none of this had ever happened. It was… surreal, Draco thought.

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

Harry had to touch his arm to get his attention. "I said we can stay on the underground if you enjoy it so much, but I'd rather get something to eat."

Draco startled and rose to follow Potter off the train.

"Everything okay? You looked a little out of it back there."

"Yeah. Fine. Guess I needed a break from Mugglemania for a minute."

Harry shot him a sideways glance but didn't inquire further. He had a feeling Draco's thoughts might have taken a similar turn as his, trying to deal with the bizarreness of their… meeting. He chewed on his lower lip for a moment. What now? They would have to talk about… things eventually. Star was right. They both needed it. The question was when… and where… and who should initiate it.

Well, one thing was certain, Harry thought, he at least would not initiate anything on an empty stomach.

Café Hardenberg, approx. 12:40

Harry had debated with himself whether or not to ask Draco what kind of food he liked, then decided to follow his intuition and just take him to the Hardenberg, one of the large café-restaurants not far from the Technical University. They offered a decent variety of food on a conveniently bilingual menu, the prices were acceptable, most of the staff spoke English, and the patrons were mainly students. Besides, the place was close to the metro station so that they need not take the bus.

Harry avoided buses as a means of transportation in Berlin as much as possible. With a less than rudimentary knowledge of German, one had to be a very adventurous character to use the public bus system. Mainly because there was no telling which stop was coming up, unless one could read the – rather small – LED display in the front of the bus, which was not always possible, especially when the bus was packed and one was penned in between people… or happened to sit with one's back to the display… or be preoccupied with holding on to whatever was in reach to keep one's balance – the latter largely depending on a combination of the road's surface and the driver's mood – or disposition – or both –, especially during stopping and departing. Thanks, but no thanks! Riding the bus with Star, who had grown up in Berlin, was a lot of fun, but when on his own, he preferred to rely on the underground – and his feet.

Yes, the Hardenberg would be okay. Just one transfer and a short walk. And if they were lucky, it wouldn't be too crowded yet and they could get a table outside or in one of the window alcoves where the air was better than in the thick of the crowd and where they would have a little privacy.

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

"So tell me how you've been doing. How did your N.E.W.T.s go?" Harry asked, sipping his orange juice.

They had indeed been able to get a window seat and spent a few minutes browsing the menu, discussing what to eat, and the waitress had disappeared with their order after bringing their drinks.

Draco shrugged. "All O's. Top of the class."

"No surprise, really. You're almost as bookish as Hermione."

Harry snickered at Draco's scandalised look. "I said _almost_."

Draco rolled his eyes. "I take that as a compliment, Potter."

Harry smiled and didn't reply.

"Did you… ever take yours?" Draco asked hesitantly after a few seconds, studying the contents of his glass.

"Actually, I did. About two years after you. It was strange, though, being back at Hogwarts and most of our old class gone."

He looked out the window, remembering how grateful he had been that Ron and Hermione were still with him. Against all odds, they had made it through… everything. Relatively unscathed. At least physically. They had returned to Hogwarts almost to the day one year after they had left. Naturally, Hermione had set up study schedules for the three of them right away…

"Potter? You still with me?"

Harry blinked. "Oh. Yeah. Sorry." He smiled. "I was just thinking about Hermione. She was nice enough to let us unpack our trunks the day we arrived before she cracked the whip and dragged us into the library. Ron's face was priceless!"

Draco snickered. "Trust Granger to keep the troops marching." He winced inwardly at the remark, which could very well bring them close to a topic he'd rather avoid right now, but Potter seemed not to have noticed.

"I don't think Ron and I would have made it through school without Hermione." He gazed out the window again. "Not in one piece, anyway."

Draco was once again struck by the oddity of the situation. That they could sit here and have lunch, catching up, like old friends from school. As if the whole war – if you could call it that – had never happened. And for him actually it hadn't. Father had enrolled him in Professional Potion Making at Prague's Premier Training Academy for Professional Wizards & Witches. He had allowed him to come home to the Manor for a few weeks after his N.E.W.T.s, where a tutor drilled him in translation and interpreting spells for Czech, then sent him off to Prague – which he hadn't objected to at all. He distanced himself from the wizarding world in England and concentrated on his studies. Mother owled him regularly, of course, but he did not hear a single word from Father after the last day at the Manor, when Lucius had called him into his study and launched into yet another speech about family honor and expectations and that while he had forgiven him for past transgressions, he still had to prove himself worthy to bear the name Malfoy – which, as far as Draco was concerned, was not much of an honor anymore. He would have exchanged it for… Lovegood in a heartbeat if that had ended his isolation within the wizarding world.

Too bad they had only given Father five years! But as usual, nobody could prove the worst accusations against him and the Wizengamot had to let him off lightly. Bloody honourable fools! But what had he expected? How had Blaise Zabini put it once? A lot of money and a very long arm. That was Lucius Malfoy. And Lucius Malfoy would be released from Azkaban by the end of this year. And Draco had better remember that the man still held his life in his hands – unless he wanted to earn a living teaching or making Potions somewhere. But who would trust a Malfoy enough to take him on? And then there was still…

Harry watched, slightly alarmed, as Draco clenched his teeth, wondering what was going on behind his cool façade.

"What's the matter?"

Draco blinked. "Sorry. What did you say?"

Harry decided to change the subject.

"I said, do you remember that day in Herbology when Lavender Brown tried to pet the Venomous Tentacula?"

It was not the most imaginative line, but it served the purpose. Draco snickered and they launched into recollections of Potions' accidents, the Weasley twins' pranks, Professor Snape in grandmother Longbottom's vulture-topped hat, Ron's hexing himself into throwing up slugs, and other reminiscences, like Colin Creevey's obsession with photography or his brother's talent for bizarre accidents – carefully avoiding more… sensitive episodes such as Mad-Eye Moody turning Draco into a ferret, or Harry flinging mud at him, or Draco's imitation of a Dementor – although it seemed funny in retrospect, especially since he had hit Draco and his cronies Crabbe and Goyle with a nice Patronus in return.

The mention of Gilderoy Lockhart's unleashing a flock of Cornish pixies in the classroom then was the segue into a good twenty minutes of joyful teacher-bashing and some of Draco's infamous imitations, and by the end of two hours, their stomachs were pleasantly full and the mood completely relaxed. Which, considering their talent for stumbling into controversial topics of conversation, could change any minute, Draco thought dryly. Well, all the more reason to enjoy it while it lasted.

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

"Okay, what shall we do now?" Harry asked after they had paid and were finishing their coffee or, in Draco's case, tea.

Draco rolled his eyes. "How would I know what to do around here, Potter?"

Harry tsk'd and shook his head. "What? Hermione didn't buy you five of the very latest travel guides for Berlin plus _Xenophobe's Guide to the Germans_ to read on the plane? I'll have to have words with her. She's slacking!"

Drace snickered. "Believe it or not, even Granger overlooks things occasionally." _Such as, for example, that you're living with somebody, _he added to himself.

"Well, the weather is nice, so we can do anything outdoors. There are public parks all over the city. And of course there are tourist things like the zoo or boat trips... Places tend to get pretty crowded on weekends, though," Harry said, "could be stressful for you." He gazed out the window, frowning slightly, trying to figure out what to do, and missed the odd look that flitted across Draco's face.

"Let's do a guided tour. I've always wanted to go on one of those," Harry finally decided, "they start every thirty minutes and it's not far from here."

Draco shrugged. As long as it didn't involve long walks, he was game for pretty much anything.

"You didn't bring any jeans and trainers, by chance, did you?" Potter asked as if he could read his thoughts.

"Potter, I don't even _own_ things like that."

"Too bad. We'll have to buy you some. Your feet are going to kill you if you walk around in these all day."

"Why would I buy clothes for one more day of sightseeing?" Draco tried to look blank.

Potter looked at him with a strange expression on his face. "Don't tell me you and Hermione went through the trouble of finding me and flying you here for just one weekend."

Draco's mind worked feverishly. Maybe Granger had told Potter that he actually had a whole week. On the other hand, they had agreed to keep it a secret. Hoping that Granger had kept her mouth shut, he shrugged and said, "I guess I could stay a couple more days," going for a nonchalant tone while trying to neglect an indefinable sensation spreading out from his stomach. "It's not like I'm urgently needed at home or anything."

"Good!" Harry beamed. "There's so much I haven't seen around here yet."

Draco looked skeptical. "How long did you say you have lived here?"

"About a year."

"And you still don't know the place?"

"It's a big city. And I didn't say I don't know the place, I said there are things I haven't seen yet."

"Well, you're the expert, Potter." Draco scooted his chair back and stood up. "Lead on and I shall follow."

And Harry's urge to poke him returned. With a vengeance.

* * *

**Footnotes:**

_Battalions of Strangers:_ Fischer-Z; from their Album "Red Skies Over Paradise", 1981

_Xenophobe's Guide to the Germans:_ Stefan Zeidewitz/Ben Barkow, 1993


	5. A Walk in the Park

**A/N:** Thank you, Anime Monster, banner, and fourth-face-of-the-goddess for your continued interest and positive feedback. It really means a lot to me!

And **very special thanks to Actias luna, **who has agreed to be **my beta! YAY! **

* * *

**_Chapter 4: A Walk in the Park_**

**Still Saturday, June 18, 2004  
****Orangerie at the Charlottenburg Palace, around 16:00 **

"I need to stretch my legs," Potter had declared after two hours on a sightseeing bus and dragged him into a park at the back of some palace. From what Potter had told him, afternoon walks were an essential part of German customs, especially on weekends. Sure enough there were people everywhere. And lots of dogs.

Naturally, Draco had teased him about his Muggle fondness for walks in the park, Harry had reminded him that it was a bad idea to annoy one's tour guide, and they had spent a while with friendly banter, interspersed by periods of companionable silence, occasionally resting on a bench, talking about this and that and nothing in particular.

Now they were sitting outside a little café next to the palace, having tea, and Draco tried to observe the people around him unobtrusively, finding it difficult to resist the urge to comment on them or ask questions that might draw attention. Potter had cautioned him in this regard when a Muggle woman glared at him after he had made an admittedly snide remark about her undeniably ugly dog. Many Muggles spoke English around here, Potter had warned, and Draco had kept his voice down and been more careful what he said or asked afterwards.

Harry watched him amused – and a little touched. He could tell from the look on Draco's face that despite his contempt for Muggles, he couldn't help being intrigued. Which didn't really surprise Harry. Draco was an intelligent person with an inquisitive mind and Harry had hoped that his curiosity would eventually overcome his forced distaste of Muggles. He had a long way to go, of course, but this was a start.

"You never told me what you did after your N.E.W.T.s," he reminded Draco, whose thoughts apparently had wandered off again because it took him a second to react.

"I studied Professional Potion Making in Prague."

"Prague? I've never been there but I hear it's nice."

And Draco started talking about how Prague had been a major center of alchemy in the fifteenth and sixteenth century and that its Potion Makers were still famous today, especially for developing very effective medical potions. Prague also had quite a large population of witches and wizards who maintained close ties with the wizarding communities of Budapest and Vienna and cared little to none about the goings-on elsewhere, which had made things a lot easier for him at the time.

Draco winced inwardly for bringing them close to sensitive topics again – and thanked whatever higher authority was responsible for these things that this one, too, had apparently gone right over Potter's head. Or maybe he just found wizarding communities on the Continent a more interesting subject than why being in Prague had made Draco's life easier, because he started asking Draco all kinds of questions about them and Draco was only too happy to answer.

Harry listened, watching the way Draco's expression changed as he talked about experiences he had truly enjoyed: his eyes brightened, his lips softened, his whole face came to life. It was a good sign that Draco lowered his shields around him so soon, even if they were just talking about harmless things, Harry thought. And then it dawned on him why Draco must have enjoyed his years away from the wizarding world in England, and he wondered what had become of the few people Draco could still call friends after everything that had happened in their seventh year: Pansy and – to an extent – Blaise, Cra… Vincent and Gregory. The thought made him feel awkward and a little sad.

"Your turn, Potter."

"You mean what have I been up to since my N.E.W.T.s?"

Draco nodded, looking genuinely interested .

It was really amazing, thought Harry, that Draco seemed so different all of a sudden – and a lot younger. And he had to quickly shut a mental door so that the image of a stunned, angry, and hurt 17-year-old Draco could not come any closer. He cleared his throat.

"I had no idea what to do," he said – and almost added "I thought about becoming an Auror", but caught himself in time. "I talked to McGonagall and she suggested I stay at Hogwarts for a while, sort things out, look into a couple of options. So that's what I did."

He gazed out across the square in front of the castle. He had spent several months at Hogwarts, assisting Madam Hooch with her lessons, learning quite a few useful first-aid spells for minor Quidditch-related injuries in the process. He had helped Hagrid with the more amenable creatures in his care, such as hippogriffs and nifflers. And he had attended to those of Professor Sprout's greenhouses that were occupied by the more docile plants. But no matter how much he exerted himself physically, he seldom slept more than a few hours before nightmares woke him up and bitter memories made it difficult to go back to sleep. He finally asked Madam Pomfrey for SnoozEez, but when he came back for a second bottle, she started fussing and suggested he see a Healer. He did not ask her again. He'd rather suffer through sleepless nights than show his nose at St. Mungo's and become the subject of absurd speculations in the press again.

"I couldn't find anything that sounded interesting enough, though, or that seemed like something I would enjoy. Or be good at. Other than Quidditch, that is, and I didn't feel like doing that for a living, either."

There had been several offers from professional Quidditch teams, of course, but the truth was that he was tired of the constant media attention. It was bad enough at the time. As a Quidditch pro, it would have been even worse.

Draco watched him curiously, wondering what Potter was holding back. His face clearly showed that he was telling him only bits and pieces – and that he didn't want to be asked for details. Which was fine with Draco. The important thing was that they were talking about the past at all, even if they both kept things to themselves. He suddenly realised how much he missed having someone to talk to. And then he remembered his thoughts during his conversation with Potter's roommate yesterday: that he missed… Harry.

"Then one day there was an article in the _Prophet_ about Mrs. Figg opening a Kneazle Kennel in Ottery St. Catchpole. That's when I got the idea…"

Draco gave him a puzzled look. "Who is Mrs. Figg?"

"Oh. Right. You wouldn't know her." Harry chuckled. "She was one of the Dursleys' neighbours. I thought she was only a batty old cat lady until I found out that she was actually a squib and had orders from Dumbledore to watch over me." He frowned slightly, playing with his teaspoon. "Anyway… I saw that _Prophet_ article about her, and then I thought about… being watched all the time. And I knew I wanted to get away from it." He looked at Draco and smiled. "You would have figured it out in a heartbeat, but it took me a week to put two and two together and realise that with her gone, there were no more wizard spies on Privet Drive."

"You went back to those… savages?" Draco looked appalled.

"Unfortunately I had to. You can't just go off and live as a Muggle, even if you know how to do things without magic. You need all sorts of paperwork to prove that you even exist. The Ministry of Magic's bureaucracy is nothing compared to that of Muggles."

"How did you know all that?"

"I heard Uncle Vernon complain about it often enough. He had to fill out forms for his company all the time. And Aunt Petunia always carried on about the school bureaucracy." He shrugged. "There's good in bad, I suppose. I knew I needed legal documents of some sort. And the Dursleys were the people who had them or could tell me about them and would never tell anybody what I might be up to."

"Why would they help you? I thought they hated you."

Harry's expression hardened.

"I had a feeling that a promise to never show up again combined with a nice big cheque for, erm, room and board would soften even the Dursleys' hearts. It turned out I was right."

"But why would you want to become a Muggle at all?"

A little late Draco realised the tactlessness of his questions. _Damn! _Coldn't he just have asked why Potter left the wizarding world? No, he had to put his foot in it again. _Stupid, stupid, stupid!_

But Potter let this one pass, too. Draco was beginning to wonder if he actually wasn't noticing his blunders or if he was actively ignoring them. However, if any of this angered him in any way, Potter showed no sign of it. He just seemed to ponder the question as if he hadn't given it much thought so far.

"I don't know," he finally said. "Maybe I needed a… new challenge. And I couldn't make up my mind what to do as a wizard. Or maybe I just did it because I could." He pushed his glasses up his nose and shrugged. "It was probably a mixture of reasons. But mostly I wanted to get away from the attention." _Especially from all the nasty gossip about you… and us,_ he thought.

Draco felt the area around his stomach relax. Whatever had happened those past seven years, it had certainly changed Potter. Which made him wonder if that was why he still – or rather: again – called him by his last name. "Harry" had been a gangly 17-year-old teenager who was constantly worried or upset about something. Draco was not sure what to make of this… adult Potter, who had grown into his body and was much calmer and more self-confident. The boy Harry he had known. The young man Harry he was only just getting to know. And he did not want to continue this particular line of thought right now.

"Was it difficult to get used to the Muggle world?"

And Harry, who was only too happy to get away from the "reasons why" topic, began talking about some of the funny things that had happened to him while trying to adapt to Muggle living.

**_What's for Dinner?  
_****Orangerie, around 18:00 **

Harry stretched and glanced at his watch. "Almost six? No wonder I'm getting hungry! What do you want to do for dinner?"

"Well, Mr. Tour Guide, what do you suggest?"

Harry thought about it for a minute, running a hand through his hair, a dubious expression on his face. Then made up his mind.

"A quiet place," he said and stood up. "We need to make our own dinner, though. Grocery store closes at seven. Let's go."

Draco suddenly felt… insecure. Being around Potter had been a lot easier than expected and he had enjoyed the day, but that had been in public. Safe. He was not sure how to feel about being with Potter at his place, which was clearly what the casual remark implied. Unfortunately, he had no alternative suggestion and didn't feel like going back to his hotel, so there wasn't much of a choice at this point. He took a deep breath and followed Potter, hoping his roommate would be home. As unsettling as he found the woman, at least he would not be alone with Potter. He didn't think he was quite ready for that yet.

Harry glanced at Draco as he caught up to his side, wondering if Draco felt the same anxiety he did. Wished he could simply ask him. Knew he wouldn't. Why was it, he mused, that he felt so close and so far away from Draco at the same time?

It was like facing each other from opposite ends of a bridge, both clearly reaching out to one another but neither of them taking the first step. The feeling had been growing steadily over the past few hours while they caught glimpses of each other's lives in their conversation, carefully dancing around those things they should talk about but didn't, in order to not disrupt the new, still fragile connection between them.

As much as he enjoyed spending time with Draco like they were just old friends, this could not go on, Harry thought, a little melancholy. And he reminded himself that – years out of school or not – he was still dealing with a Slytherin: intelligent, ambitious, and cunning, but not terribly courageous. It would be up to him to lead the charge. Not that he had any idea where they would end up, or even where he _wanted_ them to end up, but he'd rather step into the unknown than be at a standstill for an extended period of time. Patience had never been one of his stronger points. Draco, on the other hand, could play one step forward-two to the side-half turn back-games indefinitely. If he let him. Which he wouldn't.

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

Still lost in thought, Harry entered the little supermarket on the corner with Draco in tow to buy bread and other odds and ends for dinner. He mentally reviewed the contents of their refrigerator, automatically picking up things they needed, oblivious to the fact that Draco was watching him curiously.

It was weird to see Potter move around in this world with such ease, Draco thought. He might as well be watching a stranger. The fact that Potter had grown up with Muggles had only meant something in terms of what he did not know about the wizarding world. But that was a rather limited way of looking at things. It required a lot of knowledge to live as a Muggle and Draco was acutely aware that he was just beginning to get an idea of how little he knew about this world… and how intimidating that was. He wondered if it was like this for Muggle-borns when they found out that they were wizards; if Potter had felt like this when that big oaf Hagrid picked him up on his eleventh birthday and basically dumped him into the wizarding world. _It must have been terrifying,_ he thought, not realising that he had spoken aloud until he heard Potter's startled "Huh?"

"I was just thinking… it must have been terrifying for you when that… when you first came to our world," he said, feeling awkward.

Potter blinked, looking surprised. "I never really thought about it that much." He shrugged. "At that age, nothing seemed as terrifying as the Dursleys. I was just happy to get away from them for the most part of the year. They could have sent me to St. Brutus and I would have been happy. Although I much preferred Hogwarts St. Brutus."

"Where is St. Brutus?"

"It's more a 'what' than a 'where'," Potter explained, blushing slightly. "It's a boarding school for… difficult cases. That's where the Dursleys told everybody I went to school. I had to promise Uncle Vernon to go along with the story, before third year, when his sister came to visit, or he wouldn't sign my Hogsmeade form…" He trailed off, watching the cashier ring up their groceries.

Draco absent-mindedly started putting groceries in the plastic bag that Harry had handed him, just as absent-mindedly, while he paid. "Oh," Draco finally said, "that must have been your other aunt. The one you blew up?"

Harry chuckled. "The very same. Uncle Vernon never signed my form because of that. Well, that and because I was so pissed off that I grabbed my trunk and ran off that night."

They each picked up a grocery bag. "It took me everything not to hex him," Harry continued as they headed out the door.

"Why didn't you?"

"I was close," Harry admitted, grinning, "but somehow it was enough to watch his face while I practically had my wand up his nose. I never really wanted to hurt anybody, not even the Dursleys. It just didn't seem right."

Draco snorted. _I can see why you ended up in Gryffindor,_ he wanted to say. But it didn't… seem right. Instead he asked, "So why did you go back to them?"

"Because Aunt Petunia is my mother's sister. I have no other family, at least not that I know of. She's my only blood protection. As long as I could call her house my home, Voldemort couldn't really touch me – until I turned seventeen," Harry said matter-of-factly. Realised how very, very close they were to the part of the map with "here are the lions" written across in very big bold letters. Found that he was perfectly fine with the idea. And that he wasn't nervous at all anymore.

* * *

**Footnote:  
**The Café Hardenberg, the Charlottenburg Palace, and the Orangerie are real places in Berlin.


	6. Into the Lion's Den

**A/N: Thank you,** Feilian, fei-yen, ladylark, and msberry for your feedback on the previous chapter. I am happy that you like _Found!_

A **special thanks **goes to Anime Monster for pointing out an error in the previous chapter. I have corrected it.

This chapter has not been easy. It is because of my wonderful beta that I could post it only one week later than planned. **Thank you, Actias luna, for guiding me through the Lion's Den **with a firm hand and a friend's touch!

* * *

******_Chapter 5: Into the Lion's Den _**

**Still Saturday, June 18, 2004**

"Voldemort couldn't really touch me – until I turned seventeen."

Suddenly Draco found it hard to breathe. Was this it already? The crossroad where he would have to make his first choice: Play it safe – or don't play at all? And they had arrived here because of something he hadn't meant to say aloud – why? Because saying things like this meant admitting that he thought about H… Potter. And that was not a good thing because it meant he had let his guards down and now he was… exposed? Vulnerable! Wasn't he? But how could Potter possibly hurt him? And why would he want to? And where did this jumble of emotions come from all of a sudden?

Draco was glad that they were not looking at each other right now. Potter had a talent for guessing his emotions quite accurately from looking in his face. Draco could not remember off the top of his head why that had been a bad thing in the past, but it used to make him uneasy. And whenever that happened, he became sarcastic and cut into Harry, distracted him by making him angry, and before they knew how they had arrived there, they were right back in the middle of another ride through the – oh so familiar – vicious fighting circle. And it had mostly been because Draco was afraid. But none of the things he had feared back then were important anymore. They were just echoes of the past, ghosting around in his head.

Draco chose.

"That's why you had to leave when you did. You were running out of time." _And you couldn't wait any longer for me to make up my mind,_ he added to himself.

"Yes."

They looked up and into each others' eyes and something passed between them: the acknowledgement that there were things that needed saying and that they would be said. If not tonight, then soon.

For some reason, being alone with Potter for an hour or two seemed a little less scary.

_**The Usual Suspects**_

**Berlin-Charlottenburg, around 19:40**

Harry stooped to peer through the windshield of one of the cars parked in front of the building before walking up to the entrance door to ring the bell.

"Who's for dinner?" he asked when Star's voice sounded through the intercom.

"Just the usual suspects."

Harry frowned slightly and sighed.

"Okay. Let us in."

He pushed the door open when the buzzer sounded and let Draco step past him.

_Much better!_ Draco thought, relieved, when the heavy entrance door closed behind them. The dim cool silence of the stairwell was a welcome change after the hours spent in sunshine and heat and the hum of the city.

"Tell me, what on earth possessed you to move to the top floor in a building without a lift?"

They had reached the third landing. Draco was satisfied to notice that he did not feel too much out of breath yet. He had continued to practice Quidditch moves after his return from Prague, but flying was not necessarily an endurance sport.

"Mainly that it was both affordable and available when we needed it. It's also quiet up there. And it's good exercise. But those are just fringe benefits."

Draco made a noncommittal noise.

Fourth floor.

"So what is your girlfriend up to, Potter?"

"She's not exactly my girlfriend," Harry replied automatically, asking himself the same question. "Looks like she has some of her friends over." That in itself was nothing unusual, but she normally told him when she invited people. "Is that okay?"

"Why wouldn't it be?" The thought of being alone with Potter hadn't seemed so bad a few minutes ago, but now some of his uneasiness had returned and Draco was relieved that he didn't have to be _all_ alone with Potter.

Fifth floor. Harry stopped on the landing.

"You really don't mind? I mean that there are… other people? Other than Star, I mean." He looked a bit concerned.

"Don't be absurd. I'll be fine."

Harry turned around and started climbing again.

"We better eat in my room, though. The girls can be a little… exhausting."

Sixth floor.

Draco swallowed, not sure what made him more nervous: the thought of being in a room full of Muggles or the thought of being in a room alone with Potter.

They stepped through the door into a babble of voices.

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

Harry led the way into the kitchen and found it empty. The voices seemed to emanate from the living room. Good. Maybe they could fix something to eat and disappear into his room before anybody noticed.

"Here, give me your bag. I'll put the groceries away and then let's get out of here before the girls descend on us."

Harry sat his bag on the counter.

"Hey, looks like somebody made dinner!" He lifted the lid of a large pot on the cooker. "Smells good."

Draco stepped close enough to sniff the contents. "May I try?"

"Sure. Cutlery is in the drawer on your left."

Draco found a spoon and dipped it into the soup. Tasted. Made a thoughtful face and stared into the pot, lips slightly pursed. Harry glanced at him. This was certainly unexpected. Who would have thought that Draco took an interest in cooking? He opened the refrigerator.

"Do you want something to drink? We have orange juice, milk, beer, or water. Or I can make tea."

"Marjoram," said Draco, who apparently hadn't listened, "and maybe caraway."

"Huh?"

"The stew. It would be better with some marjoram and caraway."

Harry pointed at a shelf. "Herbs and spices are up there. Help yourself."

"What kind of tea have you got?" Draco asked, perusing the contents of the spice rack. Caraway was easily identified, but which was… Ah! This label read _Majoran. _That had to be marjoram.

"Black or herbal. Redbush, peppermint, and some mixed herb teas. The labels are in German, so I don't know what they are."

Draco abandoned the pot for a moment to stick his nose into some of the containers Harry pointed out. He identified the contents without hesitation. Harry was intrigued.

"How did you learn that?"

"Good old C.C. I." Draco chuckled at Harry's arched eyebrows. "Component Classification and Identification. They wouldn't let you into Advanced Potion Making without at least two semesters of Basic C.C.I. and an exam. A lot of it depends on talent, obviously. The basics can be taught, but it is challenging. Lots of Herbology and Botany. They have huge greenhouses and gardens at the Academy, much larger than at Hogwarts. We used to brew barrels upon barrels of fertilizer at the beginning of each semester." He smiled at the memories. "It was really interesting, though. And I had a lot of fun. I ended up taking Advanced and Professional C.C.I., too."

There it was again, that look on Draco's face: alive and engaged. Harry could not remember ever having him seen like this at Hogwarts and was glad that Draco's memories of his studies must be more pleasant than those of his school years. _We both weren't really happy back then, _he thought. Considering the constant stress they had been under, as a couple as well as as individuals, it was a miracle that they had managed to stay together at all after the bonding curse had been lifted…

"What kind do you normally drink?"

Draco had returned to the pot, added the missing herbs to the stew and was now busy stirring, oblivious to Harry's attention.

Just like in Potions. Harry felt his heart constrict as a flood of memories welled up inside him, and this time he was unable to shut them all out.

Snape picking on him and Draco putting a hand on his arm to calm him down. Draco bent over a gently humming cauldron, his lips moving silently, counting the stirs, his hair turned a stunning shade of blue by the glow of the potion. Harry himself, trying to decipher Snape's minuscule scrawls on the blackboard. Draco whispering not to worry, they'd go over it later. _Later… _Hands gliding over bare skin. _Desire. _His mouth on Draco's. _Heat. _Slender fingers slipping into his waistband to stroke the sensitive spot at the small of his back…

He swallowed hard and shook his head. Tea. Draco had asked about tea.

"Redbush," he said, hoping that his voice sounded steadier than he felt. He found the kettle and filled it with water.

Draco studied the front of the cooker.

"How do you switch this thing on? Granger showed me something like this but it was… different."

Harry smiled, grateful for the distraction and glad that Draco was relaxed enough around him to ask how something Muggle worked.

"She probably showed you an electric. This one's gas."

He came and stood beside Draco.

"These little dots here show you which flame will be lit. To light, you just turn the knob a little until you hear a hiss, then push on it."

He demonstrated, acutely aware of Draco's presence. In Berlin. Right here. In his kitchen. It was a miracle that his brain seemed to be functioning on its normal level, because all this should have been blowing his mind.

Draco did as shown. The flame under the pot hiss-clicked to life.

"Not a bad invention," he stated magnanimously, picking up the spoon again.

"You should have seen me the first time." Harry grinned. "All the other places where we lived had electric cookers, so I had no clue. I turned the knob all the way and waited too long before pushing. The flame must have been a hand high. I thought I'd set the kitchen on fire."

Draco snickered and concentrated on the stew, finding himself wishing Harry would stay where he was, right next to him, close enough to be a… soothing presence but not too close. He felt his face heat up and quickly bent over the pot to mask his blush.

"Reminds me of Potions," Harry said softly, watching the mass swirl around in the pot, ingredients floating to the surface and sinking back to the bottom.

Draco swallowed and nodded, suddenly hit by the absurd wish that they _were_ in Potions and it would be the last class of the day and they could look forward to a few... private moments in their quarters before going to dinner in the Great Hall… _Merlin, Draco,_ he thought, _get a grip! Yes, you miss him, and okay, it's been an eternity since you last had sex, but do you have to put those two things together right now?_

"I never thought I'd miss school one day." He spoke quietly, more to himself than to Harry, staring at his fingers on the spoon, eyes slightly unfocussed, stirring. "Things seemed easier…" Round and round. "No real worries, unless you count O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s…" Clockwise. "You had your house…" Anti-clockwise. "You knew where you belonged…"

Harry remained silent beside him.

After a few moments, Draco blinked and shuddered slightly.

"So, Mr. Potter, tell me, what do you get when you add powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

A little startled, Harry looked up. Encountered a mischievous grin. He smiled.

"The Draught of Living Death."

Draco looked at him in an excellent imitation of Snape's most disapproving stare. "Tsk, tsk, Potter. Ten points from Gryffindor…"

"What?"

"…for answering too quickly."

It was too much.

Harry poked him in the ribs.

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

"Hi guys," a familiar voice said before Harry's gesture could sink in and lead to an extended period of self-consciousness. They both turned towards the door. With a sinking feeling, Harry wondered how long she had been standing there.

"Improving on my stew?"

Harry felt Draco tense slightly.

"I thought it could use some marjoram and caraway."

Star came over and scooped up a taster. Nodded appreciatively. "Thanks," she said and smiled at him. "I had a feeling something was missing, but I wasn't sure what."

Draco relaxed.

She turned around to hug and kiss Harry. "Had a nice day?" She stayed beside him and leaned her head against his for a moment, arms around his waist.

Harry smiled and hugged her back briefly, wondering what she was up to. It was not like Star to behave so… girlfriend-like.

"Yeah, it was fun," he said, looking at Draco – questioningly?

Draco felt confused, but he was also curious. He was not sure why, but in spite of the display of affection, these two didn't feel like a couple to him. If he was any judge of character, he would say from H… Potter's posture that there was definitely closeness here, yet something was missing. Not forgetting that Potter had said the woman was not his girlfriend. He wouldn't say something like that if it wasn't true. Although, she certainly behaved more like a girlfriend than a roommate. And she had seemed rather protective of Potter during Draco's first encounter with her. _A bit like Pansy, _he thought. But Potter in a casual, friends-with-benefits sort of relationship? It didn't seem like a Potter thing to do. But then again, people could change… And he better say something before they started wondering where his thoughts had wandered off to.

"Absolutely," he confirmed, keeping his eyes on the pot.

Star let go of Harry. "What did you two do today?" She stuck her head into a cupboard and began handing soup bowls to Harry who passed them to Draco, looked intently at a bowl, then at Draco, then lifted his chin towards the door. Draco nodded and began to dish out stew.

"Well, P… Harry here introduced me to the local cuisine, dragged me all over the place for two hours, and then treated me to a walk in the park."

"We had lunch at the Hardenberg, went on a sightseeing tour and to the Charlottenburg Palace afterwards," Harry translated, a little alarmed by the flip his heart seemed to do when he heard Draco say his given name.

"So how do you like Berlin, Draco?"

Star had turned her back on them and was rummaging around in the refrigerator.

"I haven't really seen enough of it to make up my mind."

"Well, then stay a while and let Harry drag you around some more." She smiled brightly.

Harry eyed her suspicously. What on earth was going on here?

"Did you buy butter, by any chance?"

Well, whatever it was, he would not find out until later.

"Check the bags. I haven't finished putting stuff away," Harry said, hoping that he and Draco could get out of the kitchen before any of the others came waltzing in. As much as he liked most of Star's friends, he really didn't feel like having dinner with any of them tonight.

Unfortunately, the piercing whistle of the kettle made that unlikely. Sighing inwardly, he took out a larger teapot. Might as well make enough for all of them.

_**The Conversation Piece**  
_

Half an hour later, they managed to escape the crowd in the kitchen.

Harry closed the door and leaned his back against it, blowing out his breath.

"A quiet place. Sure, Potter. Whatever."

Harry noted that the urge to poke Draco had been replaced by wanting to say "shut up". Lovely. Only a few hours with the pointy-faced git and old habits started re-emerging. Just great. And the little inner voice who whispered that Draco could certainly not be called pointy-faced anymore absolutely needed to, well, shut up.

"Sorry!"

"It's okay, really. They're a rather, er, eccentric group, aren't they?"

"That's putting it mildly. I normally call them the Mad Hatters."

Draco chuckled and looked around. The room was pleasant with light yellow walls, a high ceiling and large windows. Bookcases took up the space to the left and right of the door. The long wall on the right was dominated by an antique-looking wardrobe, the other one by a single bed. A desk underneath one of the windows on the wall opposite the door completed the furniture. The only… decorative piece in the room was what had to be an oversized black-and-white Muggle photograph above the bed. Draco wasn't sure what to make of it. It was the rear view of a woman standing in a doorframe, right arm raised, left arm relaxed by her side, slipping out of a shirt or robe she was holding with both hands, the translucent material covering her right arm and most of her lower back including her buttocks. What was visible of her left leg and her upper back appeared to be painted.

"Is this the only chair you've got in here?" He eyed the chair, wondering why it had wheels and how one would keep it from rolling off while sitting down.

"Afraid so. I normally don't need more than one chair to sit on. It's either that or the bed or the floor. Take your pick."

With an effort, Draco suppressed the remark that he had not intended to get into Potter's bed the first time they met after seven years. He certainly didn't want to sit on the bed and he didn't trust the chair. It had to be the floor, then. He sat down sideways, leaning against the bed. Harry pushed himself off the door and came over to sit opposite him.

Draco's eyes wandered to the photograph again. "That's an unusual picture," he ventured.

Harry smiled. "It's Star. Her brother Alex took it. He's a photographer."

Things were getting even more confusing, Draco thought, trying to process the fact that Potter had what technically qualified as a nude photograph of the woman he claimed was not his girlfriend on his wall. Above his bed, at that! And let's not forget: taken by her brother. Draco wasn't prudish, but if he had brothers or sisters, getting undressed in front of them for whatever reason would definitely be on his List of Things Siblings Shouldn't Do.

"It's… interesting. It must have taken a while to paint her like that."

"Paint her?" Harry looked puzzled. "Oh! That's not painted. It's a tattoo."

The first time he had seen it, it had almost rendered Harry speechless. The cobra's tail rested above her left ankle, the body wound its way around her leg, across her left buttock and up her back, where its head – hood flared, fangs ready to strike – covered most of the skin between her shoulderblades. It was a piece of art. Incredibly realistic, stunning, and… hot. So much so that he hadn't noticed he was speaking to it in Parseltongue until she asked him if he was okay. He had grinned and told her in all seriousness that he could talk to snakes. Of course she had thought he was joking – everybody knew that snakes were deaf, after all, weren't they? –, but the hours afterwards had been... educational.

"A what?"

"A tattoo. It is sort of a painting… stitched into the skin with a needle."

Draco looked shocked, and it took Harry a moment to realise what he must be thinking. A snake. Indelible. Received in pain. _Damn!_ Why hadn't he seen this coming? He caught himself staring at Draco's forearms. Quickly dropped his gaze.

"It must… hurt when it's done," Draco said, shuddering.

Harry blinked. Perhaps the parallels to the Dark Mark were not quite as obvious as he thought, although he found it hard to imagine how Draco could miss them. On the other hand, Draco had seemed a little… out of sorts on several occasions today. Well, it couldn't be helped now. He had known that the old-friends-from-school show would have to end and had made up his mind a good while ago that we has not going to play games with Draco. It was time for a charge.

"Everything that leaves a mark hurts," he said quietly, not surprised to see Draco's glance flicker to his forehead where the scar – although faded – was still visible. He couldn't help but look at Draco's arms again. And he couldn't resist the urge to lean forward, careful not to enter Draco's personal space, just getting close enough that he could, for the briefest moment, brush the light, smooth skin with his fingertips.

"Were you ever… Marked?"

Draco startled at the contact but held his gaze for a moment before lowering his eyes to the floor. "I was never… summoned into the ranks," he said, keeping his tone carefully neutral, part of him wishing Potter would ask further questions, another part hoping he wouldn't, and all of him feeling the reverberations of Potter's touch.

"That's… good," Harry said and fell silent again. He tried to suppress the question that had presented itself immediately after Draco's answer but failed.

"Do you know why not?" he asked calmly, keeping his eyes on Draco's face.

"Father took care of it. I don't know why or how." Draco glanced at him. "But I'm glad he did."

Harry nodded and swallowed. "So am I," he said, feeling grateful and relieved and awkward and hopeful, all at the same time.

They both stared at the floor some more until Silence cleared her throat and they couldn't help but look up, although neither of them knew what to say at this point, and the whole situation was on the verge of becoming extremely awkward. Only it didn't, because for some reason neither of them could suppress a sheepish smile when they looked at each other, which Silence took as the hint to politely depart.

Draco gestured at the photograph.

"Why would anybody in their right mind want to do something like that?"

"I have no idea. I mean, I can understand people who get small tattoos as decoration, but large ones like Star's…" Harry shrugged. "I guess that's something for extreme eccentrics."

"And having a nude picture of your not-exactly-girlfriend above your bed isn't eccentric?"

"No. That's probably just plain weird." Harry laughed. "It makes a great conversation piece, though."

Draco admitted to himself that he didn't really care about this, erm, conversation piece. He'd much rather learn more about Potter's relationship with its subject. Unfortunately, his Slytherin brain seemed unable to come up with an inconspicuous way of obtaining such information. On the other hand, chances were that he'd still be here tomorrow if he tried subtle methods. He, of all people, should know that they didn't work on Gryffindors. With the possible exception of Granger, who was a pleasantly quick thinker. Oh sod it!

"Alright, Potter, enlighten me. What precisely is a not-exactly-girlfriend?"

* * *

**P.S.: **Well, I hope you're eager to find out what Harry's answer will be! - And I'm eager to find out what you think of _Found,_ so please feel invited to leave a comment.


	7. Pieces of Conversation

**A/N: **Thank you so much for your review, itsasledgehammer!

As always, I am indebted to **Actias luna** for her excellent beta work.

**Warning:** This fic is labelled "slash" for a reason, although the last scene in this chapter may lead you to believe otherwise. If you despise Harry/Star, I suggest you skip "Starry Night". There are no detailed descriptions of any kind and you might miss an interesting conversation, but don't let it be said I didn't warn you. ;)

* * *

**_Chapter 6: Pieces of Conversation_**

**Still Saturday, June 18, 2004**

"Alright, Potter, enlighten me. What precisely is a not-exactly-girlfriend?"

Harry hugged his knees to his chest and looked out the window. He had expected Draco to ask about his relationship with Star. Most people did, sooner or later. Nobody really knew what to make of them. Which was not surprising, because sometimes they themselves didn't know.

"I don't know," he said lamely. "Girlfriend somehow doesn't... feel right."

Draco looked at him curiously. He had not really expected an explanation, but he had hoped for a reaction that showed him whether or not Potter was willing to talk about this sort of thing. Apparently he was. Good.

"So?" he prompted, "tell me about her."

"What do you want to know?"

"Good heavens, Potter, am I the first person to ask you this?"

"Of course not. I just never know what to say."

Draco gave him a quizzical look. "You have nothing to say about the woman with whom you live and share a bed?"

"That's not what you asked me," Harry pointed out. "You basically asked why I don't call her my girlfriend."

"And? Why don't you?"

"Oh come on, you've met her! Does she strike you as a girlfriend-like person?"

Draco shrugged. "That depends on what you consider girlfriend-like."

"Did you consider Pansy your girlfriend?"

"Er…"

"Why not?"

Draco opened his mouth. Closed it again. "Touché," he finally said, grinning.

"So what do you want to know?"

"Oh, for the love of Merlin, Potter, what do you normally tell people?" Draco asked with an impatient gesture. "How about… how old she is or where she is from? How did you meet her? What does she do for a living?"

"Well, that's easy enough." Harry made himself more comfortable against the bed. "She's thirty years old. Her father is American and her mother German. I met her through a flatshare ad when I was looking for a place to stay after the Dursleys. We live together, but we have very different lives." He shrugged. "She is out of town a lot, recording or playing with bands."

"She's a musician?"

Harry nodded. "She plays the guitar. Rather well, actually. She can pull off quite a show, too. And she loves to be the center of attention. She's the type of person who walks into a room full of people and knows most everybody's name by the end of the party. It's quite something."

"Sounds like she has a fitting first name, then."

"Huh? Oh, you mean… No. Star is just a stage name. I've never heard her tell anyone her real given name." He grinned. "I suspect she sometimes actually forgets what it is. She probably had to look it up in her passport before we signed the leasing contract."

Draco arched an eyebrow. "Considering that the woman has a snake stencilled across her bottom, I dare say this is a minor eccentricity."

Harry laughed.

"True! But without her, I would have never been to so many places and met so many people and learned so much in such a short time."

He looked thoughtful for a moment and turned serious again.

"She doesn't let herself be pushed around. By anybody. I've seen her stare down men twice her size. I never worry about her when she's on the road because I know she can take care of herself. If you ask her a question, you'll get an honest answer. She hates lies and she doesn't play mind games. I guess that's why I find her so easy to get along with."

Draco chuckled. "You know what you're up against."

"Exactly. God knows I've had enough lies and mind games to last me a lifetime."

"So... not a Slytherin, then?" Draco smirked.

Harry laughed. "Definitely not!" He ran a hand through his hair. "I still haven't answered the first question, though, have I?"

"Not really. But I think I'm getting a general idea."

Harry rested his chin on his knees and let his thoughts drift off again. Eventually, he looked back up at Draco.

"I guess you could call it… an intimate friendship without romantic hassles."

"Sounds like Pansy and me," Draco thought aloud, "housemates with benefits."

Harry looked out the window for a long moment. True, he thought, his relationship with Star had never been a mutually exclusive one. They were both free to pursue other… interests if they so chose, which they both had, occasionally. On the other hand, he was fairly certain he wouldn't still live with her if they didn't trust and respect each other; if there were no attachment or feelings of belonging between them. If she didn't care about him, she wouldn't have suggested to rent their own place when he balked at the idea of another flatshare. And he definitely would not have come to Berlin with her if he didn't feel… committed? Although, no, that wasn't the right word either. Which was exactly what made answering questions about his relationship with Star so difficult.

"Could be," he finally said and shrugged. "I didn't see you two together enough to know. I would say that living together for four years qualifies as more than just 'mates with benefits', but we're definitely an unusual couple." He looked up, expecting a smirk or a sneer, but instead, he encountered something like… nervousness in Draco's face. He blinked.

Draco chewed the inside of his lower lip, wondering how to best word the question that had been jumping up and down in the back of his mind for a few minutes now. Regardless of Potter's hesitancy to classify his relationship as the friends-with-benefits-variety, he didn't see how it was all that different from what he'd had with Pansy during their school years. Apparently Potter thought there was more to it, though. The question was how much more. And how could he find out without being too obvious? He glanced at Potter who looked… confused. Finally he asked in what he hoped was a casual tone, "So are you two in for the long haul then?"

Harry felt a knot in his stomach loosen, quite to his surprise, as he hadn't noticed it was there in the first place. "You mean marriage?"

"I don't know." Draco shrugged, trying to keep his face noncommittal. "Isn't that what you always wanted?"

Potter's face split into a smile that, for some reason, made Draco's heart speed up.

"Hearts and flowers and kids, eh?"

"What?"

"Never mind." Potter looked at him with a peculiar expression. "I guess I still want to, some day. But not in this world," he said after a brief pause.

It was Draco's turn to look confused. Not in this world? What world was he…

"Come on, Draco! Can you really imagine me living as a Muggle for the rest of my life? Or marrying someone I can never tell about the wizarding world unless our child gets the letter from Hogwarts?"

Harry laughed at him and Draco might have bristled a bit at that if he hadn't been startled by hearing his given name from Potter's lips for the first time since they had met at the hotel. And by realising how good it felt. And by wondering if Potter felt the same kind of… warmth when he called him Harry.

"We both know that we won't be together forever. We get along well enough, but we're too different. She's not the type to settle down and I'm not the type to tramp around the globe for much longer." He looked as if he was about to say something else, then changed his mind and closed his mouth again.

They were silent for a while.

"How… about you?" Harry finally asked cautiously, studying his toes. He had been wondering if Draco's long hair meant that he was married, but the question seemed too personal to be brought up out of context, and so far their conversations had revolved around other topics. Even now he could not bring himself to ask directly.

"Am I in a relationship? No. I've had… affairs, if you want to call it that. When I was in Prague. Nothing of consequence. And nobody since I moved back to Wiltshire."

Harry glanced at him, not sure how to respond. Although in many ways distant from his peers, Draco had always been a sociable and… sensual person. It must be hard for him to be holed up at Malfoy Manor with his mother. Harry wished he could offer some comfort but had no idea what to say. Draco hated pity even more than concern or worries.

"So you've… you're back at the Manor? How is your mother?" He briefly considered asking if Narcissa Malfoy knew where her son was, but thought it better not to.

Draco shrugged, picking at a loose thread in the bedspread.

"As well as can be expected, I suppose."

"Why? Has she been ill?" The mental image of Draco holed up with his _bedridden_ mother was even more worrisome than the previous one.

Draco scoffed. "No. But a husband in prison and the Ministry of Magic hovering above your home like a pack of vultures do not exactly make for carefree living, Potter."

Harry flinched at the acrid tone – and at the realisation that they were headed for dangerous territory again, because he was at least partially responsible for both issues.

"You have to blame me for the vultures, I suppose," he said, silently asking Draco to please let them talk about his father some other time.

Draco snorted. "Don't be daft. If the Wizengamot hadn't listened to you and Granger, the vultures would have been hyenas and there would be no estate left by now."

Harry relaxed a bit. It was true, he supposed. He had vehemently opposed the indiscriminate confiscation of Death Eater property and had, with Hermione's help, managed to win enough support for a different solution.

"Well, if you look at it that way…"

"Is there any other way to look at it?"

Harry shrugged and they fell silent again, both lost in their own thoughts.

"You did a good thing," Draco finally said. "If you hadn't been so persistent…"

Now it was Harry's turn to snort. "You mean stubborn. And it wasn't a _good_ thing. It was just the _right _thing to do. Ministries can't just go around commandeering people's property, no matter what they have done. That's not justice. Next thing you know, they'll start inventing new crimes or raising sentences and convicting people out of greed." He scowled at Draco. "And don't look at me like that! It has happened in the Muggle world and I see no reason why it couldn't happen in ours."

"Harry Potter – still the righteous Gryffindor hero," Draco teased, but he sounded good-natured and his smirk quickly turned into a genuine smile. Harry had no idea what had caused this mood swing, but it was good to feel on firmer ground again. And he had got another "Harry" out of Draco. Things were looking up.

He smirked back.

"Can't teach an old dog new tricks."

**_Call Me?  
_****Around 21:00 **

Draco stifled a yawn.

"Getting tired?"

"Yeah. It's been a long day. What time is it?"

"Almost nine. Do you want me to take you back to the hotel or call you a taxi?"

"Taxi will be fine, thanks."

Harry went to make the phone call and Draco got up to stretch. Daylight was slowly fading but it could take another thirty minutes before it would be really dark. He walked over to the window, glancing at the desk when he passed it. He had been surprised by the relative tidiness of the room, which was probably explained by the lack of furniture upon which to dump things. The desk, however, was another matter - although Draco had to admit that it wasn't quite as bad as it had been at school: some of its top was visible.

Unable to curb his curiosity he inched a little closer, just enough to read the titles of some of the books that were scattered across the surface. Most seemed to be textbooks but there was one that caught his attention: _The Cupboard Under the Stairs_. Unfortunately, it was half-buried under a loose-leaf binder and a tome titled _The Holocaust _– whatever that was – so that he couldn't take a closer look. And he would have very much liked to take a closer look because, if memory served him correctly, Harry's Muggle relatives had made him sleep in such a place until they found out that he was a wizard. _Savages! _he thought grimly. It seemed rather unlikely that the title of the book was a coincidence, but he couldn't very well ask Potter.

He heard footsteps in the hall and quickly stepped away from the desk.

"Your cab should be here shortly. I'll walk you downstairs."

Draco arched an eyebrow. "Afraid I might get lost in the stairwell?"

Harry could think of several ambiguous answers to that, but he bit his tongue. "Some of our neighbors have the habit of locking the entrance door after eight o'clock. Then you'd have to climb all the way back up here and I'd still have to walk you down. So I might as well do it now." He noted with satisfaction that Draco looked a little abashed.

**oOoOoOoOoOo **

Fifth floor.

Fourth floor.

Third floor.

"What are you doing tomorrow?"

"I don't know yet."

Second floor.

"Care for some company?"

"Sure."

Ground floor.

"Call me when you get up?"

"Okay."

Entrance door.

Locked.

"Told you so."

"Shut up."

**oOoOoOoOoOo **

Draco looked after Harry, speechless, his skin prickling where Harry had touched him. He had been unsure whether to say "Good-bye" or "Good-night" or anything at all. And in what way. He probably would have settled for a simple "See you tomorrow". He definitely wouldn't have done something like _that._

Lost in thought, he got into the waiting car. With a polite smile, he handed the driver the card of his hotel, not bothering to say more than "Good evening" this time. Heavens, how long had it been since someone had touched him? Definitely way too long if the briefest of hugs made him tingle all over!

Draco let out a deep breath. He was wide awake now. Maybe he should ring Granger and let her know how the day had gone.

**oOoOoOoOoOo **

Harry made it to the third floor landing before he had to stop and lean against the wall for a moment, trying to process the fact that he had just _hugged_ Draco Malfoy. It had been very short, true, but he _had_ hugged him. He touched his chest where it had been in contact with Draco's. His heart was hammering – and not because he had been taking two steps at a time as soon as he was out of Draco's sight.

He slowly resumed his way up the stairs, breathing to the count of steps, four in, four out, willing his pulse to slow down. He really should think about things they could do tomorrow. But he couldn't help it. As brief as the physical contact had been, his body reminded him forcefully that he had not forgotten the passionate embraces of the past. He remembered Draco's hands on him; skin gliding down naked skin; lips following paths mapped by exploring fingers; the sudden tug below his navel when the anticipation of touches and kisses became reality in sensitive spots. Behind his ears. Along his neck. On the inside of a wrist… or a thigh…

_Stop this!_ he told himself firmly. _You've lived happily without him for years. What's the matter with you all of a sudden?_ And the treacherous little voice in the back of his mind that pointed out how familiar Draco had smelled and how right it had felt to touch him needed to shut up!

By the time he reached the top floor, he felt a little more like himself. Still, he was glad to find the girls back in the kitchen, chatting and washing up. At least he had an excuse to stay up a while longer now. He was fairly certain he didn't want to go to bed any time soon.

"Want a cup of coffee?" Star raised the French press invitingly. He smiled and joined her at the counter. Accepted the steaming mug she handed him.

"Everything alright?" she asked quietly. He swallowed and nodded but couldn't hold her gaze for long. She touched his cheek.

"We'll talk later, okay?"

He slid an arm around her waist and pulled her close for a moment.

"Okay."

**Berlin, approx. 22:00 (21:00 London) **

"Granger."

"Malfoy?"

Who would have thought he'd ever feel anything positive at the sound of her voice?

"Are you… Is everything alright?"

Draco snorted. "Don't do the mother hen thing, Granger, it's annoying."

"My, my, aren't we in a cheery mood tonight. What's the matter with you?"

She was right. What was the matter with him? Draco worried his lower lip, not sure what to say. He still wasn't used to having civil conversations with Granger.

"Sorry," he muttered.

On the other end, Hermione was more than a bit surprised. She had not expected to hear from him so soon. Had something gone wrong? Should she ask him if he had seen Harry? Surely that could not hurt?

"Did you speak to Harry?" she asked cautiously.

"We met for lunch."

"And?"

"We went sightseeing."

"And?"

"And we had dinner together."

Hermione was beginning to wonder if there were such things as long-distance hexes.

"Draco Malfoy," she said in her sternest I'm-Eight-Months-Pregnant-Don't-Mess-With-Me tone, "if you expect me to worm every little detail out of you, this is not going to be a pleasant conversation for you."

To her surprise, she heard brief laughter.

"Point taken, Granger."

She sighed and got comfortable in the big squashy armchair by the fireplace. At this time of the year the fireplace wasn't lit, of course, but it was her favourite spot anyway.

"So you spent the day together?"

"Yes. I just got back a few minutes ago."

"How is he doing? I mean, does he seem okay?"

"Everything is fine. He looks good. It was a very… pleasant day. We… did a lot of catching-up."

Something in his voice was beginning to bother her. He sounded…

"Granger, have you ever heard of a book called _The Cupboard Under the Stairs_?"

Thank goodness she was already sitting!

"Yes," she said cautiously, "why?"

"He had a copy on his desk and it reminded me… It seems a bit much of a coincidence, don't you think?"

Hermione took a deep breath. She had a feeling she knew where this conversation was going and she didn't like it much, but the Sorting Hat hadn't put her in Gryffindor for nothing.

"It's not a coincidence."

Draco bit back the question who had to worm information out of whom now. He had not called her to argue.

"What do you know about it?"

"It's the dissertation of Dr. Susan Crane. She's a psychiatrist and counselling psychologist. She did extensive research on childhood neglect and its effects on puberty and early adulthood. She developed a new form of psychotherapy for the victims. Harry was one of her main study and test subjects."

"In English, please."

"Psychotherapy. It's a Muggle way of coping with childhood trauma. Like what Harry went through with the Dursleys. I'll spare you the technicalities."

"Well, that explains some things, I suppose," he remarked dryly.

"What do you mean?"

"No need to get alarmed, Granger. He seems much… calmer than he used to be. Less angry. Just, well, more stable… He's happy, I suppose," he finished impatiently, not really interested in this conversation. There was something he wanted to know and he didn't feel like playing games with Granger.

"Did you know that he's living with someone?"

Hermione hesitated. She could have stalled and asked why he was asking, but that wouldn't have been fair. She should have shared her suspicions with Draco before he left, but she hadn't and now he needed to know the truth, even if it made her look bad.

"He mentioned a roommate on the telephone this morning." She took a deep breath. "I was wondering if it was the same person he was living with when the book was published."

"Very Slytherin answer, Granger," he sneered. "If that person's name was Star, then yes, they're still… together."

Hermione was taken aback for a moment.

"You mean like…?"

"Yes. Well, sort of, at least. You could have warned me, Granger."

"I… I honestly didn't know. I… came across the name in… when I was trying to find his address. But he never mentioned anybody in his letters…" She immediately berated herself for the faux pas.

"Letters?" Draco's voice sounded… strange.

"Well, not really letters. He sent me little notes once or twice a year, just to say hello and let me know that he was okay. He never wrote much. I guess he thought we might find him if he did… I should have told you, but I was so excited when I _did_ find him that it completely slipped my mind." She felt her eyes fill with tears and rubbed at them furiously. "I am really sorry, Malfoy." God, being pregnant had turned her into such a crybaby!

"Don't start bawling on me, Granger," he said tartly. "I'm not blaming you, although you really should have told me."

For some reason, that didn't make things better. Her eyes brimmed over and she had to excuse herself, leaving Draco rather baffled and wondering what on earth had gotten into her.

**_A Starry Night_  
****Around midnight **

"Boy, that was quick!"

Harry's breathing was evening out slowly. "Maybe you're just good with your mouth."

She chuckled and nestled close to him and they kissed for a while, the frantic clashing of mouths and teeth a few minutes ago now replaced by soft, slow caresses of lips and tongues.

"Tell me about today," she finally said. "What happened that got you so hot and bothered?"

Harry felt his face heat up.

"What?"

"Oh, come on, Harry. How long have we been together? Three years? Don't you think I can tell by now whether you're, uh, sated or not? And there's really no need to be embarrassed about it."

If anything, this made him blush even more.

"Don't say that! It makes it worse."

"I think it's sweet." She smiled and kissed him on the neck. "Now tell me what happened."

"Nothing _happened."_ He sighed. "I guess it's just old memories."

She touched his face and he nuzzled into her palm, closing his eyes.

"Old memories?" Her voice was soothing, encouraging.

God, how he wished he could tell her the truth. Tell her about the curse that had forced Draco and him into a bond, the wizard equivalent of Muggle marriage, in their seventh year at Hogwarts. Tell her about how they had struggled to overcome the deep-rooted animosity between them and the conflict within their world that was the basis for their enmity. Tell her about his inner turmoil and his battles against the bond's demands for… consummation. How he had slowly come to terms with the physical aspects of their relationship, only to discover that sex was by far the easiest part of it. How Draco's father had found the caster of the curse and their bond had been dissolved. How they had tried to pick up their lives where they had left off, found that they couldn't and eventually got back together.

Old memories…

"Of our time at boarding school," he said slowly. "Little things. How it felt sitting next to him in class. Or what we used to do in the afternoons. Like working out, or studying, or being in the library, or spending time with classmates…"

He was silent for a moment, playing with her fingers.

"I… hugged him good-bye tonight and… he smelled so familiar…" He closed his eyes and swallowed, squeezed her hand. "And it felt… I don't know… it felt so right somehow."

"Did you love him?"

Harry sighed. "I don't know. Back then I certainly didn't call it that. He is… from old money and his parents were very… upset when they found out about us. He is their only child and they have drilled the son-and-heir-routine into him his whole life. We fought about stupid politics all the time. The main thing that kept us together was sex. And in the end I couldn't stand the fights anymore and walked out on him. We were only together for a few months and we haven't as much as written each other in seven years. Now he shows up and suddenly it feels like… my life is about to be turned upside down or something."

"Well, that's probably overdramatising it a bit," she said and removed her hand from his grip.

"I just don't understand it," he said, a little exasperated. "I mean, it was a… school fling. We were seventeen, for God's sake. You lock up a bunch of teenagers in a boarding school and that's what you get. Hormones."

"Oh please! Don't make me pull the river in Egypt on you. That one's so old, it has a beard a mile long."

"Alright, alright, Sigmunda!" He laughed and reclaimed her hand. "What am I in denial about this time?"

"That your relationship was more than just a school fling, of course. I think he meant much more to you than you want to admit."

His face took on a stubborn expression. "But we couldn't stand each other for the better part of six years. It was basically hate at first sight! We were sworn enemies. We hurt each other any chance we got and… What? Why are you laughing?"

"Because you're being silly. Think about it: would he be here if you'd been nothing but an attack of hormones to him? Anyway… As I told you yesterday: it's obvious that you have issues to resolve, otherwise neither of you can truly move on with his life."

"Easier said than done."

"Not really. In case you've forgotten: I'm going to Hamburg Monday morning with Martin and the others, to work on some new music. We'll be back Friday afternoon. That should give you plenty of time."

He stared at her. "You know, I really don't understand you sometimes. First you get all girlfriend-ish with me this afternoon, then you switch on the charm with Draco, and now you're reminding me that you'll be out of town for a week. What's up with that? Am I missing something here?"

"Well, duh! How else would I know that you two have unfinished business? You got all flustered when I, uh, cuddled you, and he looked ready to spit in my goulash." She laughed at him from her resting place on his shoulder. "So do you think a week is enough to work things out between the two of you?"

"What exactly are you suggesting?"

"Only that you get to the bottom of whatever it is that brought him here and got you so… agitated."

Her grin was almost roguish, Harry thought.

"And if that involves asking him to spend a few days somewhere less… impersonal than a hotel – well, then that's what it takes."

Yes, definitely roguish!

"That's a prescription for disaster, Frau Doktor." He sighed and pulled her closer.

"Nah! Won't be that bad. Could be a prescription for interesting times, though."

"Isn't that a Chinese curse?"

She pushed herself up on one elbow and looked at him sternly.

"Listen to me, Harry! Just spending a few hours with the guy and hugging him good-bye got you so worked up that it took a shag _and_ a blowjob to halfway calm you down. And even the remote possibility of being alone with him for a couple of days affects you. You need to find out what you want from each other. Now, from what I've seen and heard tonight, I'd say that talking's only part of it. Not that I mind. You know I don't. Actually, you two probably look hot together. Alex would sell his soul to get you in front of his camera."

She laughed at his scandalised face. "No need to look at me like that! It's simple aesthetics. I admit I'm biased, but you're easy enough on the eyes. And he's not bad-looking for a blond."

Harry covered his face with his free hand and groaned. He really, _really_ didn't want to hear this. If only she weren't right about the… effects. _Bugger!_

She smiled and nipped his earlobe. "You know I would never try to keep you away from anything or anybody that could make you happy." Her mouth started moving down his neck. "Now, do you want me to take advantage of you some more or do you want me to keep talking?"

"Unless this is a trick question…," he managed, "you know the answer." Her lips unerringly found another sensitive area. "You… ah… always remember my weak spots."

She muttered something into his neck that sounded like "I bet he does too", but before he could ask what she had said she pulled him on top of her and he decided he didn't really need to know right now.


	8. Runner's High

**A/N:** Thank you, Beatrisu, bjon66, flamingo223, SLNS, and sylnte for your reviews. I appreciate it!

And again a **thank you to my beta, Actias luna,** for providing encouragement and constructive criticism – even at three o'clock in the morning!

* * *

**_Chapter 7: Runner's High_ **

**Sunday, June 19, 2004  
****Berlin-Charlottenburg, 8:00**

She quietly placed the mug on the nightstand beside him and slipped back into bed, careful not to wake him. It was early, eight o'clock, but she had woken from a strange dream that refused to be recalled and had been unable to go back to sleep. She leaned against the wall and sipped her coffee, its bitter blackness softened by sugar and cream.

Her thoughts wandered back to last night. Harry was normally a considerate lover who seldom gave up all self-control. He hadn't been exactly rough yesterday, but there had been an urgency to the way he kissed and touched her that was unusual. It had been one of the rare occasions when he sought release rather than pleasure, giving in to something... fierce within him. It didn't happen often that he let himself go completely, though, and she welcomed these moments of disinhibition.

She looked at him and smiled. He had changed a lot over the past four years. When they first met, she wouldn't have thought that he could ever be more than a roommate. Harry, with his pleasant voice, who was polite and quiet and way too solemn for his nineteen years. He had rented the bedsit under the roof in the small house she was sharing with two others at the time. His room had an outside staircase so that he could come and go as he pleased but had to use the front door when he needed to use the kitchen.

At first, she rarely saw or heard him, but then they started meeting in the kitchen more and more often when they happened to be home at the same time. Eventually it became their habit to have a cup of tea or a snack together and talk for a while about what each of them had done that day or were planning to do the next. From there, it did not take them long to occasionally watch TV together or go to the pictures, or simply sit in the living room – which he jokingly referred to as their "common room" – and read. And that was when she began to wonder about his lack of social contacts. He didn't seem to have any friends, and although he spent a great deal of time in libraries studying for some school degree and had a part-time job at a copy shop, he never brought anybody home and the only phone calls he received were work-related.

Casual inquiries resulted in little useful information. She learned that his parents had died in a car accident when he was a baby and that he had grown up with his aunt and uncle who sent him to a boarding school in some remote part of the country when he turned eleven. From what little he told her about his relatives, they sounded like unpleasant people and she certainly didn't blame him for not wanting anything to do with them.

However, he often mentioned two friends from boarding school: a girl with the odd name of Hermione and a guy called Ron, who had a bunch of brothers whose names she always got mixed up because there were so many of them. It sounded like the three of them had been close friends and she wondered what had happened to them. But when she asked why they didn't call or visit him, he mumbled something about a serious falling-out and that he had moved away to think about the past and deal with things in time. All further questions were blocked by polite but resolute statements that he did not want to talk about certain things and so she didn't ask...

He stirred and turned over, yawning. Stretched and blinked groggily. Sniffed.

"Hmmm, coffee?"

"I had a feeling that would wake you up." She retrieved his mug from the bedside table to keep it safe while he was fumbling for his glasses. "I'll never understand why you need your glasses to drink coffee."

"It tastes better," he assured her in all seriousness, took a sip and sighed happily.

God, she would miss him!

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

Harry had reached the point where heart, lungs, and legs – with minimal instruction from ears and eyes – were managing the run smoothly and efficiently. And since his body obviously didn't need it at the moment, his mind had gone off on a run of its own.

Draco.

Unfinished business.

What had brought Draco here?

Sort things out.

What was it about Draco that affected him so?

Draco in Berlin. Just like that.

Issues. – What issues?

Draco had not been Marked  
They hadn't asked him to become a Death Eater.  
What if they had?  
Did it matter?

Draco was here.  
Unmarked.  
Unmarried.

June.  
Lucius still in Azkaban.  
Did Draco's mother know where he was?

Draco braving Muggle London.  
And Hermione.  
An airplane.  
And Star.  
A strange city in a foreign country.  
Dinner with a room full of Muggles.  
An unfamiliar bed in a hotel.  
Risking his parents' displeasure and more.  
For what?  
Sightseeing with his ex-spouse?

What did Draco want from him?  
Did it matter?  
What did he want from Draco?

_I walked out on him…_

_Haven't as much as written in seven years…_

_Life upside down…_

_Get to the bottom…  
_He had not done _that _in seven years either.  
Wrong train of thought.

_I want to be with you…_

_We can't be together…_

_Not like this…_

_Not until this is over…_

_I walked out…_

_Seven years…_

_Draco in Berlin…_

It hit him so unexpectedly that he misstepped and needed to slow down to breathe away the resulting stitch: how much courage Draco had shown by seeking him out – and what it could mean that we was here. And on the heels of this stunning realisation came the question why he, Harry, had not made more of an effort to get in touch with Draco – although, Heaven knew, he had thought about him often enough.

_We were only seventeen…_

Did you love him?

_Hormones._

Denial!

_More than a school fling?_

God, how he had missed Draco! His sharp wit and dry sense of humour. His self-control and impeccable manners. His voice. The way he looked at Harry. Teased him. Held him. Mocked him. Kissed him. Pushed him. Always pushed him. For better and for worse...

The burning in his side subsided somewhat, allowing him to resume a light trot. Heading homeward now.

_Why did I break up with him?_

Opposite sides.  
Edge of war.  
Running out of time.

No way out.  
Only one way around.

Switch sides.

Unthinkable.

_For both of us._

_I had no choice._

_Why did I never contact him?_

Bone-deep weariness.

The rumour mill grinding.  
Papers regurgitating Malfoy-Potter – Potter-Malfoy.

Trials.  
Lucius Malfoy in Azkaban.  
Old families disgraced.

Hatred and remorse.  
Never-ending nightmares.  
Guilt.

_We had no chance._

Until yesterday, he had had no reason to believe that Draco's political views had changed. And until yesterday, he'd been convinced that Draco would not have wanted anything to do with him after the war; that he had long since moved on with his life...

And all this probably belonged on the agenda of an Unfinished Business meeting.

Harry slowed down some more, breathing deeply but easily. He felt better. A hot shower and something to eat, and he would be ready to face whatever the day – or Draco – might throw at him.

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

"So what's the plan for today?" Star asked when he joined her at the breakfast table some time later, proclaiming himself "shaved, showered, and about to starve".

"I don't know," he said, spreading a generous amount of butter on a slice of bread. "I can't think of any place that isn't bound to be crowded today. Draco's not much of a city person. Berlin on a Sunday is probably going to stress him out."

She chuckled and passed him the honey.

"He survived dinner with the sisterhood. That proves he's tougher than you think."

"True. Although they were quite, erm, civilised yesterday."

She shrugged. "Must have been because of him. Everyone's on their best behaviour around strangers."

"Why didn't you tell me that you invited them?"

There was her roguish grin again. "Maybe I wanted to feel him out a bit. See how he'd react to a bunch of strangers."

He stared at her.

"And here I told him that you don't lie or play mind games."

She reached over and levelled his hand to keep honey from dripping off the bread and onto his lap.

"I don't. Keeping things to oneself is not lying and introducing people to my friends hardly qualifies as mind games. That's a stress test at most. You, of all people, should know that." An odd look flickered across her face before her smile returned. "And by the way, just for the records, I didn't plan to have the girls over. It was a spontaneous idea. Besides, how could I have known that you would bring him home for dinner?" She took a sip of coffee. "So what are you going to do today? Show him the former East? The National Gallery? Museums? Cathedrals? The Zoo? How about the Botanical Garden? Didn't he talk about plants yesterday?"

Naturally, everybody had been curious what Draco did for a living, and he had responded with a complicated story about botanical research, peppered with many Latin words that were certain to put everybody but the most avid gardener off the topic in no time. Later he had told Harry that this had been another one of Hermione's clever ideas.

"I'm sure he would like that." Harry grinned. "First we'll have to buy him some jeans and trainers, though."

She snorted. "He didn't bring tennis shoes? What's wrong with the guy?" But she laughed and winked at him when she said it, and he suddenly had the very disorienting feeling that he was not talking to the woman he had an intimate relationship with, but to... an older sister, almost. He wasn't sure if she behaved differently or if it was just his imagination, but whatever it was, it made things easier for him, and he felt a surge of gratitude for that.

"Thank you," he said quietly.

She appeared puzzled for a moment, then looked at him with an inscrutable expression.

"Just promise me you'll take care of yourself."

He nodded.

"I will."

* * *

**P.S.: **Thank you for staying with me so far. Any comments will be appreciated!


	9. Of Monsters and Men

**A/N:** Thank you, Airlady, for your review, and you Gravy Baby, for your nice messages. I feel honored that you like my writing so much!

And a big THANK YOU to my dear beta, **Actias luna. **This is another chapter that would be a lot less coherent if it weren't for your intelligent comments and endless patience!

* * *

_**Chapter 8: Of Monsters and Men **_

**Sunday, June 19, 2004  
Hotel Wilmersdorfer Hof, around 10:00**

The thought of braving the hotel restaurant had made Draco a little nervous, but breakfast turned out to be another interesting – and for the most part quite tasty – experience.

All in all, things were going better than expected. It made sense what Granger had told him in London and Potter had affirmed yesterday: big cities attracted so many different people and the denizens were so used to visitors and tourists from all over the world that it was easy to blend in – or to simply disappear in the crowds. He could probably wear robes around here without attracting much attention.

Most people he had encountered so far seemed open-minded and fairly helpful, sometimes even friendly. Potter had claimed that this was because Germans, no, Berliners – whatever the difference – tended to be nice to polite young Britons. Draco suspected that it had more to do with Potter's ready smile. But whatever the reason, it appeared that Muggles were just as susceptible to charm as wizards, which was good to know.

Draco leaned back in his chair and slowly sipped his tea.

Yesterday had definitely been pleasant and much easier than anticipated. They had touched several potentially disastrous topics and managed to manoeuvre around them, both shying away from in-depth dicussions, yet exchanging important information in the process. The question was, what had they learned about each other? Or rather, what did he know about Harry Potter now that he had not known before?

There were the mere facts, of course: Harry was studying for some Muggle degree by way of something called "distance learning" and "online classes" – which probably explained why he owned more books on more subjects than Draco would have expected. He worked in an English-speaking pub Thursday through Monday nights, whereas his roommate-girlfriend held a jumble of temp jobs and gave guitar lessons unless she was playing or performing, which apparently didn't happen often enough to provide a regular income. They had moved several times and lived with a host of other people over the past four years, even with Star's brother and his wife for a while. They had done a good deal of travelling, but this was their first time living outside England and the first time they had a flat to themselves.

More importantly, he had learned that Harry's relationship with Star, although not devoid of attachment, was not "marriage material", for lack of a better word. He had also learned that Harry did not intend to live as a Muggle forever and that he was getting tired of moving around. Which was encouraging.

However, most important was that Harry seemed willing to leave the past behind. That he wanted to talk to Draco and spend time with him (so much so that he had taken off from work for a couple of days). Be close to him. Even touch him. Draco swallowed and closed his eyes, struggling to clear his head. Their brief physical contacts had left him longing and aching, even after he had relieved the sheer physical pressure, and he envied Harry, who had somebody to help him cope with sexual tension.

Although, fact was that he didn't want just anyone to help him cope. He was tired of casual sex and meaningless affairs. True, sometimes anybody was better than nobody, but in the end, everybody left him wanting, missing the closeness and trust he had shared with Harry. He had thought about this a lot over the past seven years. As a matter of fact, every new lover had been a new cause to contemplate what had been so special about his relationship with Harry, and he thought he finally knew the answer: They had felt safe.

Safe enough to get angry with each other and argue viciously; to shout and storm out of rooms and slam doors; to be on opposing Quidditch teams and race each other to the Snitch just as fiercely, possibly even more fiercely than ever; to be paired in Defense Against the Dark Arts and end up in the hospital wing because their tempers had flared and practicing shielding spells had turned into a full-blown duel. Safe enough to have fantastic make-up sex. Or simply to have fantastic sex…

A waitress appeared to clear his table, and when she interrupted his musings by asking if he would like another cup of tea, things suddenly became almost painfully… real. Her heavily accented English seemed to force him into the reality of where he was, followed by the question why he was here.

What was he looking for? What did he want?

Until yesterday, he had not been sure about his motives and his answers had been correspondingly vague. Now he was beginning to think that he was here to find out if the memories of their relationship were merely figments of his sentimental imagination or if he had really shared something unique with Harry, something that could not be recreated with anybody else. There was, of course, the possibility that he had been idealising the past to avoid the present. But maybe there had been a special connection between them after all – and maybe it was still there.

Nobody had ever got under his skin and made him feel as alive as the bloody Boy Who Lived. Of course, nobody had ever infuriated and frustrated him like bespectacled, insufferable Harry Potter, either, but that was neither here nor there. To be with Harry, he had risked – and suffered – his father's wrath; yet, in the end, in spite of everything they had been through together, he hadn't had the courage to leave his family. Because he had not realised that this was about siding with Harry. Not with the Order or the Ministry of Magic and its Aurors or Dumbledore's Army. With Harry, the Boy Who Apparently Lived To Turn His World Upside Down With A Smile Or Inside Out With A Touch – which was such an unbelievably soppy thought that he resolved to practice Occlumency very diligently from now on to ensure that nobody could ever find out about it – or about anything else he'd been thinking of in the last twenty minutes, really.

And wasn't it ironic how life repeated itself in a way? Because here he was, about to spend another day with his… ex. Mother would probably cast _Petrificus Totalus_ on him and _Locomotor_ him straight into the deepest dungeon of the Manor if she knew, and Father – well, if Father weren't in Azkaban, he would no doubt come up with something unpleasant, too. But fact was that he didn't care. He didn't even want to think about it right now, because a glance at his watch told him that it was almost ten o'clock. Harry had always been more of a morning person than Draco. He should be up by now.

**Berlin-Charlottenburg, approximately 11:00**

"What are you going to do today?" Harry asked when he hugged her good-bye. "Get ready for tomorrow?"

"Yeah. The guys are coming to pick me up for practice in a little bit and then we'll come back here to go over some stuff."

"I'll see you later then?"

She nodded and kissed his cheek and pushed him gently towards the door. "Have fun. Tell the snakes I said hi."

He laughed. "I will."

She closed the door behind him.

Yes, she would definitely miss him. But now was not the time to dwell on something that might or might not happen. What would be would be. Until then, she would concentrate on here and now.

**Hotel Wilmersdorfer Hof, 45 minutes later**

Same procedure as yesterday, Harry thought and grinned as he approached Draco who was sitting in the middle of the lobby again, lowering _The Times_ when Harry stepped in front of him. Only this time, instead of looking him up and down, Draco greeted him with a smile. And Harry thought that no matter what happened from here on out, that smile had just made his day.

"Ready?"

He cocked his head at Draco who looked at him quizzically.

"Use your brain, Potter. Would I be sitting here if I weren't?"

"Probably not." Harry grinned. "Let's go."

Just like the previous day, the newspaper was carefully folded and placed back on the side table. Draco had always been fastidious – a thought that was followed by a rapid succession of mental images. Draco tidying up Harry's desk with a flick of his wand... accusing Harry of hiding an important essay to be offered an "incentive" to help look for it… constantly misplacing his school tie… spelling them clean after a hurried groping session between classes… And he better return his thoughts to the present. Right now!

"What gave you the idea to go to the aquarium?" he asked, honestly curious why Draco had suggested this particular activity.

Draco shrugged. "I asked the receptionist. The aquarium sounded more interesting than a museum. Why? Did you want to go somewhere else?"

"No. Not at all," Harry assured him, inwardly batting at the treacherous little voice which had just piped up that he didn't care where they went as long as it was with _him_.

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

Draco found the ride on the underground not quite as stressful this time. There seemed to be less people and less noise. Maybe he was getting used to the crowds. Or maybe he was simply paying less attention to them because he was much more aware of Harry's physical presence than yesterday. And if his reflections during breakfast this morning were any indication, it was definitely the latter.

They reached their destination with only one noteworthy incident when a group of uniformed Muggles – some of them accompanied by large, vicious-looking dogs – boarded the train right before it departed. People immediately started rummaging around in pockets and purses, Harry included. It took Draco some effort not to slide closer to him when the uniforms started barking in German.

"Ticket check," Harry explained.

A uniform inspected their tickets.

Its dog inspected their feet.

Draco was not aware that he had been holding his breath throughout the examination until the pair passed on and he slowly exhaled.

Harry grinned and glanced around the crowded compartment before he leaned slightly towards Draco and murmured conspiratorially,"If you think these are bad, be glad you never encountered Fluffy."

"Fluffy?"

"One of Hagrid's, er, little darlings."

Draco grimaced. "He can't have been worse than the hippogriffs," he muttered under his breath, rubbing the spot where his arm had been slashed without realising it because he was too distracted by the fact that Harry's shoulder was touching his.

Harry chuckled. "Believe me, Buckbeak was lovable compared to Fluffy. We need to change trains here, by the way." He gestured towards the door and they stood up.

"Fluffy was a dog the size of a Shire horse. With three heads. Actually, I was quite fond of him," he continued when they were out of earshot and laughed at Draco's incredulous stare. "He bit Snape. In first year."

Draco looked at him, puzzled, then comprehension dawned. "Oh! Was that why he walked around with a limp for a week and took points even from Slytherin?"

Harry nodded, grinning. "That's one of the two fond memories I have of Snape."

"Hmm, if the first is of him getting mauled, I'm not sure I want to know the second one."

"Okay. I won't tell you then."

Harry led the way up a flight of stairs to another part of the station, waiting for Draco's curiosity to get the better of him, which took only a few steps: "Worse than being bitten by a three-headed dog?"

"Much worse." Harry paused for effect. "I brewed a perfect anti-acne potion in my last Potions exam."

Draco snickered. "Now _that_ I would have liked to see. You brewing a perfect potion!"

"Very funny!"

Draco felt a bit abashed at Harry's slightly offended expression. "Snape must have been floored," he offered as amends.

Harry grinned. "His face was absolutely priceless. I expected him to start frothing at the mouth any second."

"I never understood why he hated you so much."

"Neither did I. He had reason to hate my father, though. From what I've heard, those two did worse things to each other in one month than you and I did in six years. I guess I inherited Snape's dislike from my dad. It probably came with the hair and the specs."

They both smiled and it did not occur to either of them until later that they had just sailed past several more potentially difficult topics.

* * *

**Footnote:** Harry's saying "Same procedure as…" is in homage to the play "Dinner for One", which was taped in 1963 and is shown on German TV every New Year's Eve. Harry would be familiar with it because it's been a traditional part of New Year's parties in Berlin for some 20 years and Star would have watched it with him. The line "Same procedure as" is so well known that Berliners use it quite frequently. Well, at least the Berliners I know do…


	10. Souls Swimming

**Thank Yous:** Thank you for your feedback, Lilith and SLNS. I appreciate it!

I wish I could have honored my dear beta, **Actias luna**, with a few words from Draco on the beautiful Luna moth. Unfortunately, the Aquarium Berlin has no butterflies or moths, so all I can do is thank her for her unwavering support in spite of difficult circumstances!

**A/N: **The chapter title was inspired by Pink Floyd's _Wish You Were Here_ (1975): "We're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, year after year, running over the same old ground. What have we found? The same old fears, wish you were here."

As to Harry and the tea labels in Chapter 8: Let's not be too hard on him. I certainly don't blame him if even after one year in Berlin he still has no clue what "Hagebuttentee" means or what a "Morgengruß Kräuterteemischung" is. ; )

* * *

**_Chapter 9: Souls Swimming_ **

**Aquarium Berlin, approx. 13:00**

The humid gloom of the old building was a sharp contrast to the sunny warmth outside.

Harry had hoped that the nice weather would draw people more towards the zoo and other outdoor activities, but he had warned Draco that on a Sunday, chances were that the aquarium would be crowded, and it was.

"Do we want to start at the top or at the bottom?" he asked Draco who was leafing through the illustrated guide they had purchased with their tickets.

"Top floor? Insects," Draco said after consulting the floorplan. "Sounds interesting. Let's start there."

Ten minutes later, Harry felt inclined to disagree with that assessment, but here they were and the Potion Maker in Draco was fascinated. He studied every label and scanned every exhibit for signs of its occupants, and when no other visitors were nearby, he proceeded to describe the main potion ingredient that could be harvested from whatever creature they were currently looking at. And although Harry was glad that Draco limited his lectures to one ingredient per insect, he found that he was enjoying himself because this was obviously fun for Draco.

"You're really good at this, you know."

"And that surprises you? I've studied this sort of thing, remember?"

"That's not what I meant. I meant that you're good at explaining things."

Draco smiled at Harry who smiled back.

"I wasn't very good at it in school, though, was I?"

"You weren't the most patient teacher, that's for sure," Harry said. "On the other hand, I wasn't the most attentive student."

"You had other things on your mind."

"So did you," Harry reminded him, "but you still made it a point to study."

Draco shrugged. "We had different priorities."

And there it was. Their past in a nutshell. Just like that. Contained in two little words: different priorities.

Harry ran a hand through his hair and looked at Draco a little uncertainly. "We sure did, didn't we?"

Draco returned his look more calmly than he felt. Here was another critical choice to make. He could make light of the moment and pretend the past didn't matter. But fact was that it did matter. Quite a bit, actually. _Different priorities indeed,_ he thought, feeling a sudden stab of bitterness. _You run off to chase an evil, insane_ – what was the word he had seen in the Muggle paper this morning? Something with terror… – _whatever, and I never hear from you again. Not a single fucking word. As if nothing ever happened between us. And then I try to get a hold of you and Granger tells me you have disappeared and nobody knows where you've gone or what you're doing. And you probably have no idea what that did to all of us, you… egotistical prick._

With an effort, he suppressed a sneer and simply arched an eyebrow at Harry. "Do you want to talk about this here?" he asked coolly.

"We can if you want to, but I'd rather do it somewhere else."

Draco looked at him quizzically. "And where would that be? Another quiet place?"

"I don't care as long as they have decent food. You know I don't like serious conversations on an empty stomach."

And with this, he turned his attention to the next tank and pointed at a very odd-looking black beetle that was just crawling out from underneath a large leaf. "So what do you do with this thing?"

Draco glanced at the insect and couldn't help but roll his eyes. Trust Potter to pick _Chalcosoma caucasus _to save the moment!

"That's a Rhinoceros beetle. The ground horn is used in love potions," he said and moved on without looking at Harry, who was trying to make up his mind whether he should be amused or embarrassed and didn't reply.

By the time they reached the last exhibit, Harry had regained his inner equilibrium. Then he spotted the occupant of the tank in front of them and was reminded of yet another precarious episode at Hogwarts. Because here sat one of the hugest, hairiest spiders he had ever seen outside the Forbidden Forest, staring at them, eight pinpoints of light reflecting from its eerie eyes.

"I heard there are Acromantulas in the Forbidden Forest," Draco said thoughtfully. " I wonder if it's true."

"It's true," Harry replied without thinking.

Draco looked at him curiously. "Really? Their venom is extremely valuable. It's one of the rarest and most expensive potion ingredients in the world." He grimaced. "Of course it is. Must be well-near impossible to collect." He stared at the tarantula, then apparently caught up to what Harry had just said. "How do you know about the Acromantulas?"

"I came across them once. In the Forbidden Forest."

"Really?" Draco's eyes widened. "How come you…"

"Survived?" Harry shrugged. "Boy Who Lived, remember? I've always been lucky when it comes to monsters."

"I believe that's an understatement." Draco's tone was matter-of-fact.

Harry pushed on the bridge of his glasses. "Okay. Let's say I've had more than my fair share of luck with monsters, then."

Draco chuckled. "So how did you get away from the spiders? And why did you go looking for them in the first place?"

Harry pressed his lips together, unsure how to answer. Here was an opportunity to tell Draco the truth about the Chamber of Secrets and the role his father had played in it. Fate had handed him a double-edged sword. He could use it to carve a piece out of Lucius Malfoy, but he didn't want to risk cutting Draco in the process.

"It's a long story," he began, glancing at Draco who looked at him expectantly. "Let's just say, Hagrid asked Ron and me to help him with something…" Better not. "And then things got a little out of hand." Such revelations needed to wait until he knew more about Draco's relationship with his father, he decided.

"And why should that be a surprise, seeing as Hagrid is involved?"

"I hate to admit it, but you've got a point." Harry grinned. "Come on, let's go see the reptiles. I promised Star I'd say hi to the snakes."

"Great. More monsters. This is turning into Remember-Hagrid-Day." Draco pretended to shudder, but he grinned back at Harry and side by side they walked down the stairs.

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

All things considered, this had been a good idea, Draco thought. They stood on a small bridge in a huge greenhouse, watching a dozen or more alligators a few feet below them doing not a whole lot of anything.

Naturally, some of the reptiles on this floor – especially the big lizards called iguanas – had brought back more memories of Hogwarts, like, for example, Hagrid's attempt to raise a baby Norwegian Ridgeback. And several of those memories had triggered conversations about the less pleasant aspects of their past, of course. But Draco found that reminiscing about those episodes made him feel more at ease with the idea of eventually talking about the things that really mattered. Such as different priorities.

He watched as one of the log-sized creatures below them dragged itself out of the water, settled its bulk comfortably on the artificial beach, closed its eyes, opened its jaws, and apparently dozed off.

"Hmmm, a nap would be nice right about now," he said, trying to stifle a yawn.

"Tired?"

"I'm not sleeping well lately."

"Hotel bed, huh?"

"That. And people talking in the hall, slamming doors in the middle of the night, or taking showers at five o'clock in the bloody morning." Draco rubbed his eyes.

Harry was beginning to wonder if some higher authority had him on her to-do-list today. She seemed to be handing him one opportunity after the other.

"You can stay with me for a couple of days if you like," he said in what he hoped was a casual tone. "Star is going out of town for a week. You can have my room. I'll take hers." And if Draco said yes, Harry thought, he would never ask another favour of whoever was in charge of granting wishes.

Draco blinked, trying to wrap his mind around the possibility that Harry really meant what he had just said, then struggled to maintain a nonchalant expression despite the frantic pounding of his heart.

"She doesn't mind?" Now where the hell had this asinine question come from, Draco wondered. His brain must have fallen asleep when he wasn't looking.

"What? That I sleep in her bed?" Harry grinned. "Why would she? It's not like I haven't done it before."

Well, the answer was no less idiotic than the query, Draco thought, and decided he better accept the invitation before it could occur to Harry that Draco's question could be interpreted in a slightly different way. He cleared his throat. "Well, if it's not an inconvenience…"

Harry shrugged. "It would be much more convenient than picking you up at the hotel every day." No, that hadn't come out right. "And more fun," he added.

Draco considered this for a moment. "Fun sounds good," he said airily.

Harry asked himself why he had expected a definite answer.

"I'll take that as a yes," he said dryly, his heart beating so loud, it was a miracle Draco didn't hear it.

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

"Holy purple centaurs, Harry, look at this!"

The tank was enormous: it reached from floor to ceiling and was about fifteen feet wide. Its inside was painted a deep blue and it was bare of accessories, the only decoration its occupants, who were pulsating in graceful weightlessness, gently moved by the currents, a ballet of shining, pearlescent bodies.

How unfitting that these creatures should have such a mundane name as jellyfish, Draco thought, "medusae" was much more appropriate. He sat down on the bench in front of the tank. The exhibit was ignored by most visitors, who were looking for more colorful fish or those with a more notorious reputation, but to Draco, this serene display was the most spectacular he had seen so far.

He hardly noticed Harry sitting down beside him.

"They're beautiful," Harry said quietly after a few moments and meant it, although he was a little distracted by the fact that Draco had just called him by his given name without a sneer or sarcastic remark accompanying it.

"Aren't they?" Draco smiled, looking enchanted. "If you look at them without blinking for a while, it feels like you're floating."

"Don't tell me you use these for potions, too."

"Not this kind. These are _Aurelia aurita_. But some medusae have pain-inducing or reducing properties, such as _Chinorex fleckeri _or _Chiropsalmus quadrigatus_. Others cause varying degrees of hallucination, up to the point of insanity, like _Velella velella _or _Physalia physalis_."

Harry grinned at the lecturing mode but was serious when he said, "It's too bad there are no aquariums where we come from. You would make a great teacher in a place like this."

Draco looked surprised, then thoughtful. "Actually, that's not such a bad idea. I mean, a place like this."

"Wizard's Water World – WWW." Harry laughed, but of course Draco couldn't catch the pun. He was gazing into the tank and appeared lost in thought.

Harry tried to do the same but found that he could not concentrate. He was too much aware of Draco's presence, although they were not sitting all that close – which, as his treacherous inner voice informed him, was becoming unsatisfactory. He sighed inwardly and stared at the jellyfish, at a loss what to do about the increasing need to get closer to Draco – and worried by how fast he had arrived at this point. Talking was not a problem any longer. By now, he felt certain that he could handle any conversation with Draco, even difficult ones. But the physical urges were a different challenge altogether and would increase exponentially once Draco stayed at his place.

The situation reminded him of the first few weeks of their bond, when the desire to touch had become stronger by the day. Back then, his stubborn refusal to give in to his body's needs had eventually landed them both in "voluntary suspension". Of course, things were different now, but still… He wondered if the same was happening to Draco and wished he could ask him, but that was something even the proverbial Gryffindor courage could not make him to do.

And then he thought of the time after the bond had been dissolved; when he had slowly realised that their relationship had not just been based on hormones and a curse but that he genuinely cared about Draco and missed his company. But why? The randy-teenager-part he could comprehend. Once they had started having sex, they had done it whenever and wherever they could, even in empty classrooms or broom cupboards. Harry shuddered. He definitely didn't miss doing it bent over desks or leaning against a wall in the Quidditch shed. Well, not the discomfort, anyway.

Although, thinking of Quidditch: it had always been brilliant to go down on Draco after a Seeker's Game, when they were both still worked up from flying and from the competition. He wondered if he could do that again and how it would feel. To take Draco into his mouth and stroke and tease with his tongue until Draco had to hold on to whatever was in reach to keep from grabbing Harry's head and shoving down his throat…

And he better not think about this right now. _Jellyfish, think about jellyfish,_ he told himself, _there is nothing remotely arousing about jellyfish. They are slimy and utterly disinteresting._ Unfortunately, "disinteresting" was not enough to get rid of the tightness in his jeans. A more drastic mental image was needed, such as… Hagrid naked on the beach. Yes. That was definitely having an effect. Throw in Snape in swimming trunks and Professor Sprout in a tutu for comic relief… Okay. Better.

He glanced at Draco who was still gazing into the tank.

The fact that Draco could completely abandon his deeply ingrained self-control when they had sex had always fascinated Harry. It had touched him that Draco would trust him enough to drop all shields; to not worry about appearances; to completely let go. And that was part of why he cared about Draco and why he had missed him for so long: they trusted each other, maybe more than they trusted anybody else. At first, Harry had blamed this on the bond, but when he thought about it, he realised that the bond could only enforce physical closeness. It could not create intimacy or trust or affection or companionship. Those had developed by themselves – no, actually, they had built them together, and it had taken a lot longer than starting to have sex.

Much more than a school fling, Star had said, and she was right. Draco, Harry thought, had filled an empty space in his life. He treated him in a way that made him feel like… a normal person. Noone special. He didn't try to protect Harry – if anything, Harry had been more protective of Draco during their relationship, much to Draco's annoyance – and he didn't treat him as if he were fragile. Instead, he challenged Harry: in class, on the Quidditch field, and even in bed.

In spite of everything that separated them, they had created something extraordinary, a kind of relationship he'd never had with anybody before or afterwards; a relationship that touched and deeply affected the people around them. And then his thoughts wandered back to their conversation the previous day, when he had wondered what had happened to Draco's old housemates, and realised how isolated Draco must feel without them.

Harry cleared his throat. "Can I ask you something?"

Draco startled a litte. "Sure."

"What are the others doing? I mean Pansy and Blaise and the others."

Draco opened his mouth. Closed it again. "I would have thought you knew what happened to them," he finally said.

"I know what happened to them right after the trials and I know what happened to their parents," Harry said calmly. "It's been a long time since then."

"The Zabinis are still on the run, I suppose. Every once in a while I get an owl from Blaise, but of course he can never tell me much. The Ministry is still keeping an eye on us. Sometimes I'm surprised that they don't open our mail." Draco furrowed his brow.

"I haven't heard from Greg and Vince in a while. Their parents called them home before our N.E.W.T.s. I doubt that that was a serious interruption of their academic careers, though." He smiled a little. "The last time I heard from Vince, some distant relative of his was trying to get the Weird Sisters to hire Greg and him as bodyguards. That was a couple of months ago. I don't know if it worked out. I hope it did, but I guess it would have been in the _Prophet_. Maybe they're still working on it."

He looked at his feet for a while, his hair hiding his face, and Harry felt the insane urge to run his hands through those long, soft strands.

"Pansy lives in France with her mother's sister's twice-removed cousin or something like that. Mother invited her to my graduation party in Paris two years ago, but I haven't seen her since. She owls me as often as she can. Apparently, the family is dragging her back and forth across Europe, looking for a husband for her. I just hope they find someone intelligent who can keep her busy. That girl is too smart to end up as a trophy wife." He scowled and fell silent.

Harry nodded, debating with himself whether or not to ask the next question because it seemed a rather insensitive one. But hadn't he thought just a few minutes ago that he could handle any conversation with Draco?

"I always thought your mother would… do something like that for you," he said cautiously.

Instead of the tart reply he expected, Draco made a strange noise that could mean anything from annoyance to despair. "Mother would use… any means to improve the Malfoy reputation," he said evasively.

Harry waited a few seconds, but no further information seemed to be forthcoming.

"And does she?" he finally asked, regretting it immediately because he felt his heart clench at the thought that the answer might be yes.

Draco shrugged. "If she does, I haven't heard anything about it."

Harry mentally kicked him. _Damn Slytherin games!_

"What if she does?"

Draco frowned. "Why are you asking?"

This time it was Harry who shrugged. "Just curious."

"I'll cross that bridge should I ever get there."

Harry decided not to push him and remained silent for a few minutes, staring at the jellyfish. "Do you want to stay here or shall we continue?" he finally asked.

Draco stood up.

"Let's go."

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**Footnotes: **

The chapter title was inspired by a line in Pink FLoyd's "Wish You Were Here": "...we're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl...".

The Aquarium Berlin has a world-renowned breeding program for jellyfish _(Aurelia aurata _and others) - which makes it all the more incomprehensible that they don't have an English Web site! Or if they do, I couldn't find it. :-(

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**Last but not least: **If you are as much of a sucker for post-Hogwarts and/or post-war Draco/Harry as I am: I have a C2 "Draco & Harry Ever After" with currently 45 stories (see my profile for the link). If you happen to know a good fic that you think is worth adding to the list, please send me a message so that I can check it out. Thanks!


	11. Unfinished Business

**A/N:** Thank you for your feeback, imra. I appreciate it!

This chapter has been the most difficult to write so far. Since I'm a notorious conflict-avoider, the dialogue about killed me, and my dear beta, **Actias luna,** had to work hard to keep me on track. It is thanks to her that I made it through "Unfinished Business" with my sanity intact.

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_**Chapter 10: Unfinished Business**_

**Sunday, June 19, 2004**

**Aquarium Berlin, around 15:00**

Draco glanced at Harry and asked himself for the tenth time in as many minutes what to do or say next. It looked like they were nearing the end of their tour and they had spent the past twenty minutes gazing into an assortment of smaller tanks, which required them to stand rather close to each other unless they wanted to take turns looking.

Combined with the warm gloom, the constant bumping into and brushing against each other was having a rather intense effect on Draco, and he found himself clasping his hands behind his back to keep them from accidentally ending up somewhere on Potter – who was currently pointing at the tank in front of them in which a seahorse, hitched onto the slender stalk of an aquatic plant, was watching over his swarm of tiny fry.

"Only confirmed case of male pregnancies I have ever heard of," he said, grinning.

Draco snickered. "I still can't believe you fell for that one." He shook his head. "Men having babies. Honestly, Potter!"

"Is there a reason why you have to call me Potter?" Harry looked at him with a peculiar expression. "As far as I remember, we were on first names the last time we met."

_Yes, we were. At school. Before you turned around and walked out of my life,_ Draco thought, feeling a cold hand reaching for his heart. And wasn't it peculiar how things could change from warm contentment to angry sorrow in the blink of an eye?

He shrugged. "Old habits die hard, I suppose," was all he could say before he had to very firmly shut his mouth because he was not sure what would come out next: something bitter – or something sad.

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

They didn't speak much after leaving the aquarium, and for the first time since they had met again, the silence felt… charged. It made Harry nervous. And judging from Draco's face, he wasn't particularly happy, either. He looked brooding, Harry thought after a sideways glance at him, which wasn't much of a surprise considering the kind of conversation they were probably headed for. Still, he wished he could do with Draco what he did when he had butted heads with Star: slide an arm around his waist, pull him close and ask him what was wrong, tell him to relax, that they would work things out…

But of course this was Draco, not Star. And since he'd never had to deal with a tense and unhappy Draco outside their relationship, he had no idea what to do. On the other hand: just this morning he had thought how much courage Draco had shown by seeking him out. All the more since he, Harry, had not made much of an effort to get in touch with him after leaving the Wizarding world. Why had Draco come if not to resolve their issues, one way or the other?

He glanced at Draco again, who still looked lost in thought. For a moment, Harry felt tempted to just open his mouth, say what was on his mind and be done with it, but something told him that Draco needed an active part in that conversation – and that he might have to nudge him a little to get there. Maybe it was time to get reacquainted with his inner Slytherin…

**Café Hardenberg, approximately 16:30**

"So how are you holding up in the Muggle world?" Potter asked after the waiter had brought their food and disappeared. They were back at the place where they'd had lunch Saturday, at the same table in the window niche. Had it really been only one day? It felt much longer to Draco.

"It's… not as bad as I expected."

"Less exhausting than London?"

"Yes, but only because you are marginally less exhausting than Granger." He smirked at Harry who grinned and started rolling spaghetti around his fork. "I don't know how you can stand the noise and the dirt and the crowds, though. And everything seems so… complicated."

Harry shrugged. "I got used to it."

"Do you like it better here than in London?" Draco asked hesitantly.

Harry chewed, looking thoughtful.

"I don't know," he said after he had swallowed a mouthful of pasta. "It's not a bad place to live. Better than many I've seen." An odd expression flickered across his face. "It definitely beats Grimmauld Place."

"What's that?"

"A house in London. Gloomy and depressing place, really. The boggart sneaks back in no matter how much you laugh at him, the doxies breed faster than you can brew Doxycide, and Heaven help you if you ever wake up one of the portraits in the hall. That woman will scream bloody murder until doomsday unless you shut her up. And she can't be removed because of some unbreakable sticking charm." Harry grimaced.

Draco frowned. "Sounds unpleasant. Why would you want to stay there?"

Harry looked at him intently. "I had to. We used it as headquarters until the Order was disbanded."

Not for the first time since yesterday, Draco suddenly found it hard to breathe. He returned Potter's gaze as coolly as he could and took a sip of wine.

"That's where you went after you left that day. In seventh year."

Harry nodded, and for some reason, all the anger and frustration and fear Draco had felt after Harry had walked out on him rushed through him in a white-hot blaze of misery and fury. Yes, he had been an idiot back then, and yes, he felt sorry for many things he had or had not said and done, but he was not the one who had left and never looked back.

It took him every ounce of self-control he possessed to stay calm. He sat his glass back down and breathed deeply.

_Different priorities._

"Tell me something, Potter," he picked up his cutlery again and continued to eat despite his stomach's vehement protest, "do you ever… miss your friends?"

God, Harry, we miss you so, Hermione had said yesterday, and the guilt Harry had felt at her words returned forcefully.

"Of course I miss them."

"Hmm. I see. That's why you're in touch so frequently."

"I write to Hermione."

"Once in a blue moon. And you never leave a return address. Not very Gryffindor of you, Potter."

Harry opened his mouth for a sharp retort but managed to restrain himself. After all, he had a good idea what was eating at Draco – and he wanted him to let it out. Getting defensive and pointing out that Draco hadn't done much to find him, either, wouldn't accomplish anything.

_Unfinished business._

He picked up his glass and took a drink. "Is this about me not contacting you when I was back at Hogwarts? After everything was over?" he asked quietly and avoided eye contact with Draco as he sat the glass back down, wanting to give him a moment of privacy to ponder the question. He meant to clarify what they were talking about, not provoke him. This discussion would be challenging enough with an open-minded Draco. Push him into a corner and they would get nowhere.

When Draco didn't say anything, he reached for his fork and looked up again.

The expression on Draco's face told him what he needed to know.

"I asked around about you after we returned, but nobody at school knew where you were," he said as evenly as he could, then gave Draco a tentative smirk. "I guess I could have owled your mother, but I doubt she would have been very accommodating."

"Probably not," Draco conceded grudgingly and forced another bite down his throat before he put the cutlery down and pushed his plate aside with an impatient gesture. "I guess it did not occur to you to use your friends at the Ministry to obtain such information, did it?"

For a split second, Harry felt as if someone had pulled the rug out from under him. He stared at Draco and his thoughts must have shown on his face because Draco's icy expression was replaced by a look of incredulity.

"You never thought of using the Ministry?"

"No." Harry swallowed. "I… didn't. I was too…"

He willed himself to open the mental door a bit wider and let a few more memories back in.

"You don't know what is was like those last few days... before it was all over. I don't remember the final… confrontation. Actually, I don't remember much. Of anything. Not anymore, anyway. All I know is that I was there and that it was terrifying and the most horrible thing I ever had to do in my life," he said slowly through a sudden tightness in his throat. "After… the trials were over, my nightmares became so bad that McGonagall suggested to extract the worst memories and put a blocking charm on me. I was so messed up that I couldn't think of something so simple myself."

He reached under his glasses and rubbed his eyes wearily. "But a memory block only keeps you from thinking. It doesn't change… feelings. It can take your mind off things, but… I don't know… I guess your body still remembers." He shuddered. "When I first returned to Hogwarts, I had my N.E.W.T.s to concentrate on. And the trials. And after that, I tried to stay busy at school. But nothing helped. And then I thought that maybe time away would make it better, but it had to be somewhere… completely away. From everything. So I owled Remus the memory phials and left instructions how to contact me in case of an emergency. And then I left word with McGonagall how to contact me in case of an emergency…"

"McGonagall knew where you were?"

Harry shook his head. "No. She just knew how to get word to me in case, I don't know, somebody took seriously ill or died or something."

Draco gazed out the window, fiddling with his wine glass, trying to digest all this information and to decide how he felt about it. He started when he felt a touch and looked down, surprised to find Harry's hand next to his.

"I'm sorry I cut you off," Harry said quietly, his eyes fixed on Draco's. "I didn't mean to… hurt you." He felt his face heat up at saying something so mushy, but it was the truth and Draco needed to hear it.

Draco averted his gaze but didn't move his hand."I still don't understand why you stayed away."

Harry flinched at the bitterness in Draco's voice. True, if he had really put some thought and effort into it back then, he could have found Draco and their lives would have been different. He would never have met Star and would have no idea what it meant to be an adult in the Muggle world; he would not have learned to do such mundane – and fun – things as driving a car and he wouldn't know that riding a motorcycle felt almost as good as flying; and very likely he still would not know what it meant to hold a job and pay bills. In other words, he would have never grown up.

Grown up…

"I needed to grow up," he said and slowly withdrew his hand, trailing his fingers along Draco's. "Suppose we had met right after the trials. Do you think we could have just picked up where we left off? I seriously doubt it."

Draco stared at him, torn between anger and something he could not quite grasp. Sorrow? Regret?

"That's not the point," he said finally and didn't care if Harry heard the frustration in his voice. "The point is that you didn't bother to let me know any of this. And don't give me that 'I couldn't find you' shit. You could have left a message somewhere. Or with somebody. Fuck, Harry, what were you thinking?"

He squeezed the bridge of his nose in an imitation of one of Harry's typical gestures, wondering how on earth they were going to make it through this dragon's lair of a conversation without getting burnt to a crisp.

Harry looked at him for a long moment.

"I thought you wouldn't exactly be happy to hear from the bloke who helped put an end to your… family's dreams of a pureblood society or whatever. I helped track down your father's, erm, associates and their families, remember? Oh, and let's not forget, your father himself. And I was damn sorry that they couldn't put him away for life."

He took a deep breath. "I just didn't think we had a chance. I was too… drained after everything. I needed peace and quiet and time to think. If you had seen what I have..." A pained expression flashed across his face and he swallowed hard before he continued. "There was a very good reason for that memory block, believe me. You're right, I didn't make much of an effort to find you, and I'm sorry that I left you hanging, but I didn't know what else to do."

A small frown appeared on Draco's face. "In other words, you thought I wouldn't want anything to do with you after the war and would just move on with my life," he said.

Harry shrugged. "According to everything I heard and from what I read in the papers, that's what you did after I first left to join the Order. You had all the more reason to do so after everything was over."

Draco gaped at him, momentarily speechless.

"God, Draco, what was I supposed to think? You went back to Pansy in a heartbeat after our bond was dissolved. Was it so implausible to think you'd do it again? Especially since we didn't exactly part on friendly terms?"

_Mordred, what a mess!_ Draco thought and rubbed his eyes. "Of course, it didn't occur to you that people and papers could have got things wrong. Seeing as it has never happened before," he said sarcastically.

"You asked what I was thinking," Harry pointed out. "I'm telling you what I was thinking. How was I supposed to know better?"

"You could have asked me," Draco all but snarled.

"No, I couldn't!" Harry threw up his hands in exasperation. "That's what I'm trying to get through to you. I was completely out of it after the trials. And I was too… call it immature or ignorant or whatever you want. The only thing I could come up with was to leave. I made that choice and I don't regret it. I just wish I could have grown up a little faster."

"Did it never occur to you that I could be worried about you?" Draco blurted out and winced inwardly. Why on earth would he ask such a sissyish question? Granger must have rubbed off on him!

"Is that why you've come here?" Now Harry looked at him with that same strange expression he used to have in school, when he seemed to be searching Draco's face for something, and Draco felt his mouth go dry. Was that why he was here? Well, yes, in part it was. Of course, there was also that thing where he needed to admit that he'd been at least as immature or ignorant as Harry, but he didn't feel quite ready for that yet.

"I wanted to know how you are."

"A simple phone call could have told you that."

"True," Draco said and swallowed. "I guess I just needed to see for myself that you are all right."

Harry cocked his head at him and held his gaze for a long moment before he nodded. To Draco's relief, he didn't ask further questions. Instead, his face suddenly took on a mischievous expression.

"That was very Gryffindor of you, you know? To just show up here like that."

And he gave Draco one of those smiles that used to warm Draco's heart so much – still did, as a matter of fact, because he had never seen Harry smile like this at anybody else, and that he did so now told Draco more than his many words. Suddenly iron bands seemed to melt off Draco's chest and he could breathe freely again.

"Yeah, well, must be because I was married to one once. Apparently the incubation period is seven years." The quip wasn't terribly witty and his voice felt a little unstable, but it was all right.

Harry chuckled. "I'm glad you're here," he said.

And somewhere in the depths of Draco's mind, hope, with a gleeful whoop, threw off the remnants of fear and anger. A smile grew on his face and the words "Me too" came to his lips before pride or any of the other troublemakers could interfere.

With relief, Harry watched Draco's expression soften and his frosty look disappear. "Still mad at me?" he asked with a little smirk.

Draco rolled his eyes. "I'll get over it," he said with a shrug, and if there was still an edge to his voice, that was only to be expected. It told Harry that whatever had happened to Draco overthe past seven years, it hadn't affected his stubbornness – which was a reassuring thought. Harry had a feeling that Draco would need it.

"So you're still going to spend the week with me?" he asked and didn't care if he sounded longing or wistful or even pleading. And he didn't try to hide his elationwhen the answer was a puzzled-sounding, "Why wouldn't I?"

**Berlin-Charlottenburg, early evening**

Harry stood in the hall, heard soft music and muted voices coming from Star's room and realised that he did not feel like company right now. He glanced at the kitchen clock. It was barely past seven. What was he doing home so early? And what was he going to do with the rest of the evening? He knew he wouldn't find much peace sitting in his room, wondering what Draco was doing all by himself.

With a sigh, he turned around and walked back out. An hour was enough time to make the eight o'clock show at the Odeon. He had no idea which film was playing, but it didn't matter. He would sit in the dark for two hours and try not to worry about Draco. Or think about Draco's arms around him. Or wish that Draco were with him. He would be a stranger among strangers and their nameless presences would soothe him, as they always did. And then he would take a very long walk to sort out his tumultuous emotions.

**Hotel Wilmersdorfer Hof, later that night**

Draco curled around his pillow and tried to will himself to sleep, but he couldn't get comfortable. The alarm clock showed past ten o'clock. There were too many noises around him, a hundred thoughts in his head, and flashes of the past bright in the dark. And the bed was too cold and his arms too empty, and he didn't understand why it was making him _this_ miserable. He was used to sleeping alone. After all, he'd been doing it for the most part of seven years and it really hadn't bothered him. Well, not all that much. Most of the time, anyway.

Maybe he shouldn't have pulled Harry close when he dropped him off at the hotel, no matter how brief the embrace. But it had been impossible not to steal this small touch, even though he had known it would leave him desperately longing for knowing hands on his skin, gentle lips on his mouth, Harry's warm body against his back…

He pushed his face into the pillow and tightened his arms around it and ordered himself to be still, to clench his teeth and not let out the little noise, that needy whimper that was lurking in the back of his throat, waiting for a chance to break free and make him feel utterly pathetic.


	12. Interlude: Liaison Dangereuse

**A/N:** Thank you very much for your reviews, dairygirl, Gravy Baby, jonadark, skittles-07, SLNS, and TwistedCheshy. I treasure your comments!

**Just as a little reminder:** This fic is based on the first 18 chapters of _Bond_ by Anna Fugazzi. It is not necessary to have read _Bond_ to follow _Found, Never Lost,_ but you can find it in my Favorites if you would like to read it.

**Last but not least:** Of course, I cannot start a chapter without a great big THANK YOU to **Actias luna**, my dear beta. We beat Da Sloth, girl! YAY!

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**Interlude: Liaison Dangereuse**

**Monday, June 20, 2004**

_**Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire, England**_

_December 1, 2001_

_Chère Narcisse,_

_Thank you very much for your kind invitation. I am always delighted to hear from you, especially when you have such wonderful news. You must be very proud of your son and his upcoming graduation from so renowned an institute as the Academy in Prague._

_Unfortunately, my husband's duties as newly appointed Headmaster of Beauxbatons Academy of Magic will make it impossible for him to attend the reception in Mr. Malfoy's honour. However, our son Richard will be able to accompany Viviane and me to Paris. _

_We are looking very much forward to meeting you and to making your son's acquaintance at the ball in June._

_Votre amie,_

_Geneviève de St. Croix_

"Would mistress like some more tea?"

A little annoyed by the disruption, Narcissa Malfoy looked up from her davenport.

"Yes, Flossie, more tea would be fine."

"And where would mistress like to take her lunch today?"

"In the drawing room. At noon. And I am not to be interrupted until then."

"As mistress wishes."

The house-elf curtsied respectfully and disappeared as silently as she had entered.

Narcissa turned her attention back to the old letters she'd been reading.

_June 28, 2002_

_Ma chère Narcisse,_

_First of all, let me thank you for the wonderful evening last Saturday. Viviane was very excited to attend her first ball and we both enjoyed every minute._

_It was such a pleasure to see you again, dear friend, and to find you well and in good spirits. My husband sends his regards. He has asked me to renew our invitation to visit us here in St. Croix. The lovely gardens and vineyards of our peaceful little corner of France would certainly agree with you, and we look forward to your acceptance as soon as your son will be able to handle your affairs by himself for a while._

_Your son seems a very promising young man and I am happy to inform you that Viviane approves of our choice for her – which, of course, comes as no surprise, as he has obviously inherited his mother's wit, his father's charm, and both his parents' handsomeness. However, we all agree that she is still too young to enter a serious commitment. _

_Both Monsieur de St. Croix and I hope to be able to discuss further details with you in person when the time comes. We are convinced that we will come to a mutually beneficial arrangement._

_Bien amicalement,_

_Geneviève de St. Croix_

She had exchanged owls with Geneviève de St. Croix on a regular basis since her former classmate from Madame Montblanc's Finishing School had approached her with a polite inquiry about the possibility of a future alliance between their families. In other words, she had – in a well-disguised, cautious manner – offered her daughter Viviane's hand in marriage to Draco.

Traditionally, such contacts were initiated by the groom's father. Unfortunately, circumstances got in the way of tradition these days. Lucius' imprisonment and the family's abysmal downfall after their Lord's defeat had shattered the majority of their connections. Many of the families who had been on their side since long before the conflict wanted nothing to do with them nowadays because they had suffered worse than the Malfoys after the fall of the Dark Lord.

Lucius was one of the few who had covered his tracks well enough to be spared the full wrath of the Ministry. Of course, the years in prison had been anything but easy for him, but the absence of the Dementors had made it possible to conduct most of his business as usual, especially since the Magical Law Enforcement Wizards who guarded Azkaban now were under strict orders from their Department to treat the prisoners "humanely".

Even so, Narcissa was well aware that without the intervention of that onerous Potter and his mudblood friend Granger, they would have had to flee the country and their fortune most likely would have ended up in the Ministry's vaults at Gringotts. The resentment about this fact was possibly the only link that still connected them with families like the Parkinsons, Crabbes, and Goyles.

As it was, they'd only had to pay a certain amount into a compensation fund for the victims of the conflict. True, it had been a substantial heap of galleons, but thanks to Lucius' cleverness, they were still better off than Death Eaters who had been sentenced to ten or more years in Azkaban. After paying reparations, the estates of those convicts were legally transferred to family members who had opposed Voldemort and his followers or had remained neutral. Their business dealings then had to be authorised by a special committee under the supervision of the head financial adviser at Gringotts for the duration of ten years.

For all other prisoners, the procedure was less severe: the legal status of their estates remained unchanged and their families continued their business affairs. Transactions did not have to be approved, although they were supervised by the committee, who had the right to intervene if necessary. Once the prisoners were released, the committee continued to monitor their transactions for five years, but if they wanted to interfere in any way, they needed the permission of the Wizengamot. Only if a convicted Death Eater had no family or heirs, his or her property was forfeit and the entire proceeds were put into the compensation fund.

She turned a quill between her fingers and silently cursed Potter again. It galled her to no end that she felt… indebted to the insufferable brat. She also cursed the Death Eater who had cast that shameful bonding spell on Potter and Draco. She particularly cursed the fact that she could not hex the damnable coward inside-out anymore because he had committed suicide in Azkaban. Although, hexing him would not change the fact that Draco had become so attached to his spouse in the few months of their bond that he had continued seeing him after the unbonding. She was still convinced that this had been against Draco's better judgment and she had tried to prevent her husband from doing anything rash when they learned about the boys' ongoing relationship. Unfortunately, anger had won over prudence and Lucius had punished his son severely.

Narcissa felt unable to sit still any longer. She rose and started pacing the room. It was a beautiful day. Sunshine danced through the high windows and a pleasant breeze played with the curtains, carrying the sweet smell of roses. She stepped onto the little balcony that looked out over her flower garden and sighed, still playing with the quill. As much as she loved her son, her loyalty belonged first and foremost to her husband and the Malfoy family. She had not been able to side with Draco in this. She had tried her best to explain to him why his father had acted the way he did, but she had few illusions about her success. Father and son were very much alike in their pride and stubbornness. Fortunately, Lucius had eventually overcome his anger and reinstated Draco as his heir, but there had been no real reconciliation between the two before Draco left for the Academy.

And then the Order had defeated the Dark Lord and everything they had worked for had collapsed.

Her only consolation was that at least the disastrous affair between her son and Potter was finally over. Lucius had insisted she keep an eye on their son while he was in Prague, but Draco made no attempt to contact his former spouse. And Potter did not try to get in touch with Draco, either – although it would have been almost impossible for him to find Draco: Lucius had kept his plans for their son secret until Draco returned from Hogwarts, and once he had left, they had made sure nobody knew where he had gone. There had been a short period of uncertainty when Potter disappeared and they had kept Draco under close observation for several months afterwards, but nothing happened. Potter remained missing. Draco continued his studies and submitted to his father's wish that he spend his semester breaks learning as much as possible about the family business, which – despite a visible lack of enthusiasm – he accomplished quickly and efficiently. And eventually, Lucius had agreed to dismiss the spies.

_June 17, 2004_

_Ma chère Narcisse,_

_Mon Dieu! Has it really been three months since my last owl? Please forgive me! My only excuse is that the preparations for Viviane's leaving ceremony at Madame Montblanc's and her birthday so shortly afterwards have occupied my every minute these past few weeks. _

_The whole family is looking forward to seeing you and your son at Viviane's coming-of-age ball at Châteaux de St. Croix on September 24th. Please send word soon as to when we may expect you, so that I can have your rooms prepared._

_It is very unfortunate indeed that your husband will not be able to accompany you this time. Please tell him that Monsieur de St. Croix sends his best regards and is eager to make his acquaintance as soon as circumstances permit. _

_And now, dear friend, I am afraid that duty calls again. I honestly do not remember our mothers making so much ado when you and I finished Madame Montblanc's!_

_Votre amie,_

_Geneviève de St. Croix_

She sighed.

When Draco received an invitation from his old Potions master in Prague to attend an exclusive seminar on medical potions, she was glad that he had a chance to get out of the Manor for a little while before their visit to St. Croix in September. She knew that her son was unhappy and suffered from lack of social contacts. The boy shouldn't be locked up here all the time. He needed to get out, meet people his own age who didn't shun him because he was a Malfoy, and if that meant he had to leave the country, then so be it.

She had sent him happily on his way and would still be happy for him if their family solicitor hadn't tried to get in touch with him over the weekend regarding an urgent business matter – only to have his owl returned this morning with the original message still attached to her leg, carrying a polite note from the Potions master that there was no seminar and that he hadn't seen Draco since last year.

The quill snapped.

She could not shake off the ominous feeling that this might have something to do with Potter, may the Harpies take him! Why else would Draco lie to her?

Of course, there was a slim chance that nothing would come out of an encounter between the two, but she had learned enough about bonding spells to know that affection between ex-spouses could very easily flare back up, especially if the relationship had been intensely… physical. And from what Lucius had told her after meeting the boys at Hogwarts one afternoon, there had definitely been no lack of attraction between them, no matter how much Draco had tried to dismiss it as merely "not actively fighting the bond anymore".

She flung the halves of the broken quill off the balcony, _Incendio_'d them with a flick of her wand – and regretted it instantly as the stench of smoldering feather overpowered the fragrant breeze from the garden. Disgusted, she stepped back inside and slammed the door shut.

"Your tea is served, mistress," Flossie announced.

"Thank you," Narcissa said curtly. "Now please do not disturb me again until lunchtime."

"Certainly, mistress." The house-elf curtsied and disappeared again.

Narcissa continued to pace the room, debating whether or not to inform Lucius about Draco's disappearance and her suspicions. Finally, she decided to wait until she had more information. Maybe she was overreacting. Maybe Draco had simply stolen off to meet Pansy Parkinson. Yes, that was certainly a possibility. She knew that the two had been more than just housemates and friends at Hogwarts. Maybe they were continuing their… trysts. From what she had heard, the Parkinsons were trying to find a suitable husband for their daughter, which would explain why Draco hadn't told her where he was going. He had always been discreet about his affairs.

However, no matter what was going on, there were certain things that needed to be taken care of right away. If played right, all might not be lost yet. She sat back down, plucked a piece of parchment from the stack for special occasions, selected a new quill, and began to compose a reply to her friend.


	13. Looking in the Same Direction?

**A/N: **Thank you for your feedback, msberry. I appreciate it!

And of course a **HUGE THANK YOU **to my dear beta, Actias luna.

* * *

_**Chapter 11: Looking in the Same Direction? **_

**Monday, June 20, 2004**

**Berlin-Charlottenburg, very early**

Harry squinted at the alarm clock again and flopped over with a groan. It was barely six in the morning. He'd been trying to go back to sleep for at least an hour now – unsuccessfully, because he couldn't stop thinking about yesterday. About Draco and how good it felt being around him, how relaxed and comfortable. Even… peaceful, odd as it might seem. The only thing that bothered him was that he still didn't know why Draco was here. It was obvious that he was holding something back, but why? It made no sense to Harry, especially after he had told Draco so much about himself.

He rolled onto his stomach in another attempt to get comfortable enough to doze off, but his thoughts returned to last night again, to the moment when Draco had tightened his arms around him, leaving him dazed and a little shaken – and with an urgent throbbing in his groin. He'd been thrilled that Draco had closed the distance between them this time, but the promptness and intensity of his body's reaction had rather shocked him. Being turned on by memories was one thing. Getting a full-blown hard-on at a simple touch was a slightly different matter.

With a sigh, he sat up and reached for his specs. There was no way he would go back to sleep. Might as well go for a run and get an early start on the day.

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

Star was halfway through the newspaper when a yawning Harry entered the kitchen shortly after seven. He mumbled a "good morning" in her direction and headed straight for the coffee pot.

She watched him as he spooned much more sugar than usual in his coffee, almost spilled hot milk all over the stove, then got his shirt caught on a drawer handle while turning around and nearly dropped his mug.

"You okay?" she asked when he finally sat down across from her.

He took off his glasses to rub his eyes. "Long night," he said glumly, pushing the glasses back onto his nose – just in time to see her eyebrows shoot up. "Oh for… I didn't mean it like _that_!" he added, sounding slightly exasperated, but he couldn't help smiling and she relaxed.

"Sorry. Couldn't resist." She winked at him, then turned serious again. "Anything bad happen yesterday?"

"No, not at all," he began, "we went to the aquarium and had dinner afterwards." He wrapped his hands around his mug, a brooding expression on his face, and stared at the tabletop for so long that she finally reached out and touched his hand to get his attention. He startled, then laced his fingers through hers with a deep breath.

"We started talking. About what happened back in school," he said slowly. "I'm not sure he really understood why I never tried to get in touch with him afterwards, but at least we talked about it."

Another silence.

"And?" she prompted.

"And he's… going to stay here for a couple of days. If we don't start fighting again, that is."

"Well, you won't know if you get along with him unless you try."

He cleared his throat and glanced at her, looking worried. "It really doesn't bother you?"

She had a feeling she knew exactly what he was referring to, but this time she wasn't going to make things _that_ easy for him.

"What should bother me?"

"That he's staying here."

"Why would it?"

He looked at her with an odd expression, and for a moment, the reserved, often insecure youth she had first met appeared before her mind's eye – a memory that was intensifiedby the blush that crept across his face when he answered.

"Because we might… end up sleeping together."

It never failed to amuse her that after three years with her he was still reluctant to talk about sex unless they were in bed, but at the same time she found his awkwardness endearing. And it made it easier to slip back into her "older sister shoes" – although she had to admit that they didn't fit quite as comfortably as they used to.

"Hey, as long as it's not in _my_ bed!" she said and grinned at his scandalised look. She didn't wait for a verbal protest. Harry would never do something so… disrespectful.

"Come on, Harry, it's not like you've never slept with someone else before," she said with a shrug. "Although you and a guy – that would be a first. At least since I've known you."

He averted his eyes. "What if it's… more?"

"More?"

"More than sex," he said, unexpectedly blunt. "What if we… decide we want to give it another shot?" His voice was steady and he looked at her calmly, but his hand was clutching hers like a lifeline.

Over the years, they had adjusted to each other's irks and quirks. They had even come to appreciate their differences – well, most of them. He was the calming influence in her fast, impulse-driven life while she continuously dragged him out of his social isolation by throwing him in with her friends and an ever-changing motley crue of acquaintances.

They had balanced, inspired, and learned from one another.

Perhaps it was time they started letting go of each other.

She removed her hand from his grip as gently as she could.

"Then you'll make a decision…"

No matter how often she had told herself that the moment would come one day, the prospect of… not living with Harry anymore was unpleasant. She took a deep breath, pushed the unwelcome thought aside, and forceda smile.

"But you won't know what is or isn't until you've spent more time with him."

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

As usual, she hadn't asked for his help, and as usual, Harry had picked up her heavy backpack and carried it downstairs. Now they were standing on the sidewalk, next to Martin's battered old van, facing each other, and Harry was feeling awkward. He probably ought to say something profound, but he couldn't think of anything, so he just pulled her to him and wrapped his arms around her.

"I don't know what's going to happen," he mumbled into her hair. "Everything's changing."

"You say that as if it's something new around here," she commented dryly and held him close for a moment before she pulled back to look him in the eye. "But we're friends, right? Nothing's gonna change that."

He gazed intently back at her, his closest friend of four years, and thought of his other friends, the ones he had left behind with barely a word.

"No," he assured her, "nothing will ever change that."

"Star? Wir müssen langsam los." Martin's voice startled them both.

"Time to go." She kissed Harry on the cheek and pulled him into a tight hug. "Take care of yourself."

"Have fun," he said as she climbed into the vehicle.

"Don't I always?" She winked at him and gave him one of her roguish grins. "Be _safe_!"

He rolled his eyes and waved her off in mock indignation. Standing by the curb, he watched the vehicle disappear around the corner to the musings of his treacherous little inner voice who was wondering if Draco had any idea what a condom was...

**Hotel Wilmersdorfer Hof, around 10:00**

The toast felt like cardboard in his mouth, his eggs were dry, and the tea was too bitter.

Draco glanced at his watch. Ten past ten. He had only been up for an hour, but he felt ready to go back to bed and sleep for a day or two.

_Must have been dinner,_ he thought, taking another bite of cardboard. Harry might prefer difficult conversations over a meal, but as he had found out yesterday, Draco didn't. Although, what were fatigue and a slightly unsettled stomach compared to the fact that they had finally started talking about the issues between them; and that the discussion had gone much better than anticipated?

They both could have handled matters differently in the past, but what was done was done. Harry was probably right: they hadn't had a chance after the war. But circumstances had changed, _they_ had changed, and maybe there was a chance at a future. He sat his cup down and absent-mindedly turned it around on its saucer. The next few days would have a lot to do with that. Which they were free to spend any way they wanted to. His stomach clenched again, but this time it was either from anticipation or from nervousness. Most likely both.

The last time they'd had a couple of days entirely to themselves had been the winter holidays in seventh year, shortly before Father had found the caster of the curse. Christmas 1997. They'd been perfectly comfortable with each other by then, and with the pressure of homework and housemates gone, they hadn't fought at all. He'd almost forgotten the peace and quiet of those days. Draco smiled and managed to shut out most of the more… intimate memories associated with that time.

Now they had the opportunity to be away from prying eyes and social restrictions again, and he was looking forward to spending time with this Harry, who reminded him in many ways of the teenager he'd been but was such a different person: still good-natured, even thick-skinned at times, but so much more easygoing and relaxed than in the past. Although… What if that past came back to haunt them? Or what if they discovered that they had other differences now? And what if these differences turned out to be major issues?

He shook his head impatiently. They had taken that hurdle once before and he didn't see any reason why they shouldn't be able to do it again. Apart from that, it was hard to imagine any differences greater than those they'd faced as students. Although, back then, getting… intimate had helped. Unfortunately, that was not an option at the moment, and he had no idea what the chances were for it to happen at all. Harry might have initiated their physical contacts so far – with the exception of last night –, but they had been too brief and superficial to tell if he wanted more. Besides, from what Draco had observed these last two days, it wasn't uncommon for young men to hug each other when saying hello or good-bye. Maybe Harry had just adopted Muggle customs. Who knew?

Still, he couldn't help it… He wanted to hold Harry. Not just hug him. Really hold him. Wrap his arms around him, bury his face in his neck, and say what he'd come to say. Lock out the world for a little while. Be held. Feel safe… _Oh no! Not again! _He groaned inwardly and made a face. What the dickens was it about Harry that reduced him to such a soppy git?

He washed down the last of his toast with a mouthful of tea, then checked his watch again. Half past ten. Time to go. _Finally!_

**Berlin-Charlottenburg, around 11:00 **

_I should have gone to pick him up!_ Harry thought, not for the first time this morning, and glanced at the clock whose hands had hardly moved since he'd checked it last.

He had prepared his room for Draco, cleaned up, gone shopping, done the laundry, and generally managed to stay busy until about an hour ago, when Draco had called to let him know that he was on his way to breakfast and would come over afterwards. Ever since, Harry's main occupation had been to keep himself from pacing the flat and biting his nails.

Surely it could not take _that _long to have a cup of tea and a piece of toast. How could Draco even _think_ of eating while his own stomach felt like a rubber ball? And why on earth was he so jittery? After all, the situation was not even remotely comparable to the first week they'd been forced to spend together, back in school, after they had been cursed. This time, they would be perfectly comfortable in separate rooms and nothing would compel them to… do anything they didn't want to.

Harry squeezed the bridge of his nose, wondering what he was getting himself into. What were they going to do for the rest of the week? What if they got on each other's nerves? Or worse: bored! They hadn't had that problem at Hogwarts, where school and Quidditch had kept them busy. And when they'd done all their homework, run out of things to talk about, and didn't feel like flying, they'd either been quiet or had sex. Which was not an option at this point. Well, being quiet was, of course. But what if they felt uncomfortable?

He made an impatient noise and shook his head. Maybe he was making all this way too complicated. He knew that he wanted Draco around. Everything else would fall in place. There might still be the occasional awkward or tense moment, but they had relaxed around each other surprisingly fast – at least in public. Now they would get used to being together in private again. Should be no big deal. Piece of cake, really. They had done it before, after all, and under much more difficult circumstances.

He glanced at the clock again. Five past eleven. _Jesus!_

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

Draco paid the driver and got out of the cab, vowing that he would never get into one of these torture chambers on wheels again unless absolutely no other means of transportation – including his own feet! – were available. Or if he could _Crucio _the driver afterwards and get away with _Obliviating_ him.

_I should have Apparated, _he thought morosely and rang the doorbell, not looking forward to hauling his suitcase up the stairs. For a moment he felt tempted to at least shrink it to make it more manageable, but of course Granger was right: using magic in the Muggle world may not exactly be a good idea. He grimaced. How anybody in their right mind could voluntarily give up magic was beyond him. He wasn't sure if he should admire Harry or consider him insane, but by the time he reached the top floor, he knew the answer.

"You must be out of your mind to live without magic," he informed Harry as soon as the door opened, "completely bonkers!"

Harry laughed.

"It's good to see you too."

Of course it was quite possible that his heart was hammering because he had just climbed six flights of stairs, but if Draco was perfectly honest with himself, it was much more likely that Harry's smile had something to do with it.

**A Little While Later**

"You don't look so good," Harry observed when Draco joined him in the kitchen after he had unpacked. "Are you feeling all right?"

A huge yawn was the answer.

Harry chuckled. "What on earth did you do last night?"

"Tried to catch up on sleep," Draco muttered, slumping into a chair.

"Doesn't look like you were terribly successful. Why don't you lie down for an hour or two? It's not like we have to be anywhere or do anything right now."

Draco pillowed his head on his arms on the kitchen table and mumbled something unintelligible.

"Come again?"

"I said yes, Mum."

Harry laughed and made a shooing motion with his hand. "Off to bed with you. I'll wake you up in two hours."

"Merlin, Potter, you're almost as bad as Granger," Draco grumbled. "Next thing I know, you'll want to read me a bedtime story."

"Or worse: tuck you in, eh?"

Draco blinked up at him from the tabletop.

"Tsk, tsk, Potter, just because I land in your bed two days after we've met doesn't mean you get to tuck me in. I have my principles, you know?"

"Go get some sleep," Harry said. It sounded… affectionate, and a tension Draco hadn't been aware of until just now drained away.

"Oh well, since you insist…" He yawned again.

"I do. I need you alive and kicking in two hours."

"Why? What's in two hours? You just said we don't have to do anything."

"Well, if we want to do tourist stuff for the rest of the week, we should get you some jeans and trainers today."

Draco groaned. "Do we have to?"

"Of course not. You can always wear some of my stuff."

Draco couldn't resist: "No offence, but I think getting in your bed is as far as I'm prepared to go at this point. Your trousers will have to wait."

Harry laughed, and Draco dragged himself off the chair and across the hall.

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

When Harry sneaked into the room ten minutes later to fetch his history book, he found Draco curled up on his side, fast asleep, cheek pillowed on both hands. He looked at him for a long moment, watching the slow rising and falling of his chest, wishing he could curl up around him and go to sleep as well.

In the end, he settled for gently brushing a strand of hair from Draco's relaxed, peaceful face and tucking it behind his ear, careful not to let his fingertips rest on Draco's neck much longer than absolutely necessary.

_**Like a Charm  
**_**Around 13:00 **

Draco felt the mattress dip and reluctantly cracked an eye open to find Harry perching on the side of the bed.

"What is it?" he mumbled, trying to keep his eye open long enough to focus.

"It's two hours later. Feeling better?"

Draco rubbed his face and made a noncommittal noise.

"Here, try this."

Harry held out his hand.

"Huh?" Draco blinked groggily and took the proffered… whatever it was.

"Muggle remedy for sleep-mouth. You asked me about it once, remember?"

Draco squinted at the small transparent strip. "What's this?"

"It's like a liquorice melt, only peppermint-flavoured," Harry explained and got up.

Draco put the thing on his tongue.

Harry had made it almost to the door when the pillow struck his back.

"You are going to pay for that, Potter!"

Harry turned his head just enough to see Draco jump out of bed before he fled from the room, laughing hysterically. Naturally, there was only so much he could do to get away from a determined Draco in a two bedroom flat. After a brief chase through the kitchen and down the hall, he found himself in the living room, where Draco managed to get hold of his shirt, causing him to lose balance and end up sprawled half on, half off the couch.

"Okay, okay! I give up!" Harry choked out, barely able to speak, effectively pinned down by Draco, who was more or less sitting on top of him. "Stop it! Please!" he gasped, trying to ward off prodding fingers. Damn, who would have thought that Draco remembered his ticklish spots?

To his relief, the poking ceased almost immediately and they looked at each other, laughing and a little breathless.

"Peppermint melt, my arse! Firewhiskey's more like in Mordred's name was that?"

"Pocket Listerine, extra-strong," came the gleeful reply. "Works like a charm, doesn't it?"

Draco chuckled at the pun. Then the thought crossed his mind that no, he wouldn't know if it _really _worked unless he… tested it. He was suddenly acutely aware of Harry's flushed face, his laughing eyes, and slightly parted lips – and of his own position: one knee between Harry's legs, the other one beside him on the couch, basically straddling his thigh… And then he was wondering what it would be like to kiss Harry again, gently, just a light brush mouth to mouth, slowly getting bolder, teasing with little licks and nips until their tongues were touching… It would be so easy… All he'd have to do was lean forward…

"…to Draco…"

The sound of his name and a light touch on his arm brought him back to the present.

"Earth to Draco?"

"What?" Draco blinked, somewhat disoriented. " Earth?"

"You're spacing out on me again." Harry looked up at him with a slightly worried expression. "Are you all right?"

One of Harry's hands was resting on his bare arm, the other one on his knee… Warmth through his trousers, heat on his skin... Draco swallowed. Here was another choice to make: Just give in and kiss Harry and see what would happen – or wait for a clearer signal from Harry. And he had to decide quickly, because Harry's touch had seeped through his skin and was causing sensations that were creeping closer to his groin with every heartbeat…

"Yeah. I'm fine." He shifted back, annoyed with himself. _Damn! _Where was his inner Gryffindor when he needed him? "Sorry."

Harry's fingers slid slowly off his arm and knee when he stood up.

It felt like a caress.

_Damn!_

**Berlin, Wilmersdorfer Strasse, around 14:00**

"Don't they have anything around here that fits?" Draco stuck his head out of the changing cubicle, looking exasperated.

"Why? What's wrong with those?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "They are too tight. If _you _like to show off your arse, that's fine. _I_ certainly don't!"

"Why?" Harry asked innocently. "As far as I remember, there's nothing wrong with your arse."

"No, there isn't. There is just something wrong with these trousers!" Draco retreated into the cubicle and a few seconds later, the unsuitable garment was flung over the door.

Harry found it increasingly difficult to keep a straight face. Maybe he was enjoying this a little too much, but he couldn't resist getting back at Draco for the many times he had made fun of his clothes.

"I thought you hated baggy clothes. At least that's what you used to tell me in school. Or did that only apply to _my,_ erm, outfits?"

"Harry Potter! Can you get me a decent pair of denims within the next five minutes or do I have to wear robes from now on?"

Harry's treacherous inner voice stated magnanimously that he'd have no problem with that, especially if Draco wore nothing underneath. He managed to suppress a remark of that nature. Barely.

"You brought robes?"

It wouldn't be much of a surprise, really.

"No, I did not, but that won't be a problem," Draco grumbled. He stuck his head back out the door and took a quick look around before he said, "I'll simply transfigure your favourite shirt!"

"And how would that be different from wearing my trousers?"

Harry ducked just in time to evade the wadded t-shirt Draco launched at him.

"All right, all right!" He raised his hands in mock defeat. "Don't get your boxers in a twist. I'll see what I can find." He started to walk off, then turned back around. "Has anybody ever told you that you're high maintenance?"

_"Harry!"_

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

Countless minutes later, Draco finally declared a pair of jeans comfortable enough to wear and Harry declared that he needed a cup of coffee after this ordeal – and that he would not go through something like this for trainers. Draco would have to make do with a pair of his that were fairly new. They would be slightly too large, but tennis socks would solve that problem. To his surprise, Draco didn't raise any objections.

"What shall we do for supper?" Harry asked when they reached the underground station. "We can cook, go out, do takeaway, or just have bread and cheese and a handful of olives."

Draco shrugged. "Depends on what we want to do before or afterwards, I suppose."

"I thought we could go see a film. Did Hermione take you to the pictures?"

"We didn't have time for that. She showed me television, though."

"Cinema's almost like television, only on a big screen. D'you want to go?"

Draco looked a little doubtful.

"It's fun, you'll see. And we can always leave if you don't like it."

"All right, Mr. Tour Guide, I'll meekly submit to your illustrious suggestions."

"Meekly?" Harry snorted. "I'm surprised that word is even part of your vocabulary!"

"Maybe I've learned something over the past seven years."

It was said lightly, but a quick glance at Draco's face showed Harry that he was more serious than he let on, so he bit back a cheeky retort about the meek inheriting the earth, which Draco probably wouldn't have understood, anyway.

"Like cooking?"

"Among other things."

"Oh? What other things?"

But Draco had that faraway look on his face again and didn't seem to have heard the question.

**Berlin-Schoeneberg, Odeon Theatre, around 20:50**

Watching Draco at the pictures was almost as entertaining as the film itself. It was definitely more fascinating, Harry thought, paying only minimal attention to what was happening on the screen, focused entirely on Draco, who had his elbows propped on his knees, his chin resting in his palms, completely enthralled by the story unfolding in front of them.

Harry leaned back and stretched, glad that they were sitting in the very back of the theatre where he could clasp his hands behind his head and sprawl in his seat without blocking anybody's view. He normally preferred to be somewhere in the middle rows, but he had no idea how Draco would react to being plunged into darkness and subjected to the assault on one's senses that was cinema. Very few people ever sat in the back, so they wouldn't disturb anybody should Harry have to explain things or should they need to leave early because the experience proved too much for Draco.

Fortunately, the volume stayed below the threshold of noise pain this time and a six-year-old could have followed the plot – and would possibly have asked similar questions, Harry thought with a smile, returning his attention to the screen where the hero was about to embark on a mission to save his heroine from a crew of bloodthirsty pirates.

Draco sat up and leaned back in his seat, the change in position resulting in his knee touching Harry's and his head almost resting on Harry's elbow behind him. If he noticed the shockwave that ran through Harry's body at the contact, he gave no sign of it. Harry swallowed, momentarily unable to concentrate on anything but his reaction to Draco. He closed his eyes and let the sensation wash over him, noting that he felt strangely... relieved at the increased contact, as if some sort of weight had been lifted – although this was quickly replaced by an increase in the kind of tension that would soon force him to think of Snape in swimming trunks again.

He shuddered and opened his eyes. On the screen, the hero was being beseeched by his accomplice to "wait for the opportune moment". Harry groaned inwardly. The opportune moment. _Indeed!_ he thought and stretched his legs, moving just enough to not be in direct contact with Draco any longer but still feel his body warmth. What had he been thinking? He should have known that being so close together in the dark, touching every time one of them moved, would be torture. They should have stayed home and watched videos instead. Something absolutely un-sensual. Star Wars, episodes four, five, and six. From opposite ends of the couch. With all the lights on.

He sighed silently and removed his hands from behind his neck, his elbow bumping into Draco's shoulder in the process. "Sorry," he mumbled and shifted around in his seat until he found a more comfortable position.

Several minutes passed before it dawned on him that he felt so comfortable because his arm was touching Draco's…

_**Insomnia  
**_**Around 23:00**

Harry gave up. Sleep apparently needed an engraved invitation tonight; probably because he wasn't used to being in Star's bed by himself. He got up and pulled on his pyjamas. They had some herbal tea that Star swore put her to sleep anytime. Maybe that would help. If he could remember what the container looked like…

A little while later, he stood by the open kitchen window with his hands wrapped around a steaming mug, listening to the city. He'd been to most European capitals over the last three years and discovered that there was something strangely… erotic about summer nights in big cities. A certain smell. A taste in the air. He'd never been able to put his finger on exactly what it was, but Paris had it the most, and Berlin was not far behind. Add Draco's presence and it was no wonder he couldn't sleep. And of course the name Draco brought a mental picture of him; and another rush of memories; and the urge to put an end to his nervous tension by climbing into Draco's bed and letting Mother Nature do the rest.

_What if it's more?_

Harry closed his eyes and inhaled the fragrant vapours rising from his tea. His thoughts wandered back to the film, when he had caught a glimpse of Draco's face in the flickering light from the screen and realised that it bore the same expression Draco had when he was talking about his studies. Or lecturing about the use of chopped toad tongue in calming draughts. Or gazing into a tank full of jellyfish. Or chopping lemon grass for their dinner.

He'd never seen this Draco at Hogwarts, not even when they were flying or having sex. And for once, his little inner voice sounded nothing like its usual treacherous self when it whispered that it was… addictive and that he wanted more; that he wanted to see Draco shake off the restraints of his elitist pure-blood upbringing, break free from his father's oppressive influence, drop all acts, and allow himself to live.

_I'd let him drag me through every aquarium on the Continent to see him like this,_ he thought, _I'd have to listen to a thousand lectures, but I wouldn't mind,_ and he felt a warm bubble form in his chest. _I wonder what else will make him look so alive. _The bubble started to expand. _I want to see him happy_. There was a hint of embarrassment at being so sentimental, but he couldn't help it. And he quickly suppressed the thought that Draco's happiness probably depended to a large degree on what would happen when Lucius Malfoy was released from prison and could once again wield power over Draco's life.

_Then you'll make a decision._

He was fairly certain that leaving Berlin would be no problem, but was he ready to go back to England? Maybe the Wizarding world had moved on as well and wouldn't make a big deal out of his return. _Yeah. Right. And maybe my name is Mickey Mouse, _he thought with a scoff. Although, publicity was only one issue. The other one was what he would do for a living. Not that he really needed to, but he was used to being busy, and he liked having a job. Wizard's Water World. He smiled. Draco had said it wasn't a bad idea, so it could be worth thinking about. And then there was his favorite pet project: a prep-school for Muggle-born witches and wizards, a place where they could learn about the Wizarding world and its traditions before they started at Hogwarts.

It would be fun to take a group of children to Diagon Alley to buy their school supplies; watch their faces when they held a wand for the first time; be there when they were fitted for robes; tell them about Hogwarts and the Forbidden Forest and Quidditch; maybe show them how to fly. Yes, he would enjoy that. If he could ever figure out how to get rid of Sirius' mother, they could start with Grimmauld Place, take only a few children at first, maybe four or six, see how things went. Maybe some of his old classmates could be persuaded to help out here and there. He smiled at the thought of Hermione reading _Hogwarts: A History_ to a bedroom full of ten-year-olds. That would definitely put them to sleep fast! Or Luna telling them about her quest to find the Saber-toothed jackalope. Or Draco lecturing them on the proper way of addressing Wizarding authorities.

A little wistfully, he thought of Neville, Seamus, Dean, Justin, Padma and Parvati, Lavender, and the many others he had gone to school with. He wondered what had happened to suddenly memory after memory rose up inside him with such force that he could feel them physically, like a huge wave roaring ashore, rising, cresting, breaking, crashing down over his head.

Hagrid in the ramshackle hut on an island in the middle of the angry sea, prodding an empty fireplace with his umbrella.  
_Harry – yer a wizard. _

Draco standing next to him on a stool in Madam Malkin's shop.  
The Weasleys helping him get through the barrier between platforms nine and ten.  
His first train ride to Hogwarts.  
_"Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, turn this stupid fat rat yellow."_

Scabbers. – Peter Pettigrew. – Wormtail. Moony. Prongs. Padfoot. – Sirius. Falling through the archway, disappearing behind the veil.

Walking through the Forbidden Forest with Draco and Fang.  
A cloaked shadow crouching over a unicorn.  
The caricature of a human face staring at him from the back of a head.

Draco sneering at him over the tip of his wand. _Scared, Potter?_ _– You wish!  
_Enemies of the heir, beware.  
Tom Riddle, handsome, intelligent, gifted; with his poisoned thoughts and a heart full of bitterness.  
_Master has given Dobby a sock._ –_ You have lost me my servant, boy!_

Draco dancing with Pansy at the Yule Ball.  
The maze.  
Cedric.  
A snake-faced creature rising from a cauldron in a graveyard.  
_Kill the spare!_

The blinding flash was followed by searing pain shooting down his scar, and then he found himself back in the maze, thick fog crawling over the hedges. Now that was odd. Hadn't the graveyard come _after_ the maze? He definitely hadn't known about the Marauders in first year. And Sirius and the fight at the Ministry – that had been in fifth. Something was out of sync here. He needed to think about this… put things back in their proper order…

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

_Maybe I shouldn't have taken that nap, _Draco thought and turned over. He'd felt sleepy enough when they said good-night across the hall – which had been awkward, to say the least, with Harry standing in the bathroom door, Draco leaning against the doorframe of Harry's room – but when he switched off the light, he found he was less tired than he'd thought.

It had been an… encouraging day. The oriental grocery store with its many herbs and spices and their exotic aromas had been particularly intriguing. Cooking with Harry had turned out to be a lot of fun. And the film – that had been fun, too. Almost… magical. He'd had a thousand questions how Muggles accomplished this or that, but had to stop asking after a few minutes. Harry leaning close in order to keep his voice down had been distracting enough. Harry murmuring explanations in his ear had simply been too much. He couldn't remember a single word Harry had said and he didn't want to make a fool of himself by asking the same questions the next time they watched a film. And he should think about something else, because memories of Harry's breath tickling his neck and the warm pressure of his arm against Draco's were doing anything but put him to sleep.

He wrapped his arms around the pillow and willed his mind to be still; it had worked last night, surely it would work now, when he felt so much more comfortable. And so much less alone. He smiled. It was good not to be alone. To be with Harry was even better. Of course, to be with Harry _right now _would be best, but all in good time.

His mind still couldn't quite grasp the fact how… easy it was to be around each other. True, they got annoyed with each other every now and then, but that was nothing unusual. As a matter of fact, it reassured him that they found reasons to roll their eyes and scoff at one another occasionally. Their encounters so far had been ominously conflict-free – even yesterday's dinner conversation. Or maybe it just seemed that way because they had fought so viciously in the past.

And wouldn't it be nice if things could stay like this a little longer? If they could have a place to themselves for, say, a couple of months? Do whatever they felt like doing? Maybe go traveling? He was sure Harry would enjoy visiting the Wizarding communities in Prague, Budapest, or Vienna, and from what he'd heard, the Muggle parts of those cities were quite interesting, too. It would be fun to discover them together. – And who said they couldn't?

Draco sighed and turned over again.

There was the slight problem of Mother, of course. He didn't like leaving her alone, no matter how often she assured him that she was perfectly fine by herself. Every time he'd returned to the Manor for a semester break, he had found her thinner and wearier-looking than the last time, and it seemed that with every year he was away, it took her longer to return to her former self-

The noise was not very loud, but in the quiet night it sounded like an explosion. Draco sat bolt upright and listened. The crash had come from the direction of the kitchen. Could Muggle contraptions blow up out of the blue? He had no idea, but if something _had_ exploded, there was a danger of fire. He picked up his wand from the bedside table and stepped into the hall. Light was spilling out from underneath the kitchen door, but everything was quiet.

"Harry?"

Cautiously, he stepped closer, opened the door – and froze.

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

**Footnotes:**

The chapter title was inspired by a quote from the French pilot and poet Antoine de Saint-Exupéry (1900-1944): "Life has taught us that love does not consist in gazing at each other but in looking outward in the same direction." _Wind, Sand and Stars, _1939

Martin's line, "Wir müssen langsam los", means, "We need to go."


	14. A Restless Night

**A/N: **Thank you so much for reviewing, firefly50, JulieAngst, myOriginalIntent, Sally, SilverInDark, and slytheringirl4ever. I appreciate your feedback and enthusiasm!

And an especially warm thank you to my beta, Actias luna. Without you, this chapter would be a mess!

**Warning: **Rated S for soppiness. ;)

* * *

_**Chapter 12: A Restless Night **_

**Still Monday, June 20, 2004**

**Berlin-Charlottenburg, around 23:20**

No explosion.  
No fire.

Harry.  
Lying on the floor.  
In the middle of the kitchen.  
Curled up on his side.  
Motionless.

_What the hell!_

Three steps brought him to Harry's side. There was nothing nearby that Harry could have hit his head on and he didn't see blood anywhere. Which was a good sign. The fact that Harry's eyes were wide open and unblinking was probably not.

He touched Harry's shoulder and shook him gently.

"Harry?"

No reaction. He shook a little harder.

"Harry!"

Nothing.

_Shit!_ What now? He put a hand on Harry's chest. To his relief, he appeared to be breathing normally and his heartbeat was strong and steady.

Draco bit his lip. The only awakening spell he knew was _Rennervate_, but he had never heard of it being used on someone who hadn't been Stunned or Stupefied. Should he risk casting it on Harry when he didn't know what was wrong with him? He had no idea. Granger would know, but Granger wasn't here and he had no way of relaying a message to her.

_Shit! Shit! Shit!_

How could he get a hold of Granger without an owl or a fireplace? There was no way he could Apparate all the way to London, and of course he had no Portkey. Damn Potter! Why did the stupid sod have to live as a Muggle? What did Muggles do when they got ill? Wait! He knew this! Granger had told him about it. They called a Muggle healer… a doctor. But he didn't know any doctors and the only healer he knew was Granger.

Muggle.

Phone.

Doctor.

Healer.

Granger.

He almost slapped himself. Stupid! Ring Granger, of course! Where was the damn telephone? He spotted it on the kitchen table. What was Granger's number again? And the phone was different from the one at the hotel. How did the infernal thing work?

By the time he had found the number and figured out the telephone, he felt dangerously close to either losing his temper or bursting into tears.

He dialled.

Thank Merlin the line was free!

He ground his teeth. Please let her be home. _Please!_

"Hello?" The female voice sounded familiar but he couldn't place her right away. It wasn't Granger, that was for sure.

No time for introductions.

"Hermione Granger, please." Damn, what if she had changed her name to Weasley?

"Eh? Who is this? Do you know how late it is?"

Whoever it was, she apparently hadn't recognised his voice. Thank the gods for small favors!

"Put Granger on the phone," he snapped, trying to sound as unlike himself as possible. "It's an emergency!"

The word "emergency" seemed to have the desired effect: he heard noises and a muffled conversation in the background. A door was closed. Then Granger's voice. Thank goodness!

"Hello?"

"I need your help, Granger!"

"Malfoy? Oh God, what's the matter?"

"I just found Harry on the kitchen floor. I think he's unconscious, but his eyes are open. I shook him and I yelled at him, but he doesn't react. I don't know what-"

"Is he injured? Bleeding?" she interrupted his increasingly panicked babbling. Her voice was calm and professional. Bless the woman!

"No. Not that I can see, anyway."

"Labored breathing?"

"No."

"Heartbeat?"

"Steady."

"How does his skin feel? Clammy? Cold? Feverish? Sweaty?"

"No. Feels normal."

"Pupils dilated?"

"No."

"Any vomit?"

"No."

"Did he mention any headaches today?"

"No."

"Did he drink alcohol or take any drugs or medication?"

"Not while I was watching. I don't know what he did in the past half hour or so, though."

"How do you mean?"

"I don't know what he did after brushing his teeth and supposedly going to bed thirty minutes ago."

"Hmm… Did you try magic?"

"No. Do you want me to _Rennervate_ him?"

"Can't hurt. Check his hands and feet. If they're warm, point the wand at his feet. Better to stay as far from his heart as possible."

Draco checked. "Hands and feet are warm," he reported. "Here we go. _Rennervate_!"

"Anything?"

"No. Wait a second, though… This is odd. I wonder…"

"What?"

Draco ignored her.

"Hmmm…"

"Malfoy!"

"Must have been the noise I heard…"

"Draco Malfoy! What are you going on about!"

"Sorry, Granger. I just noticed… There is a puddle on the floor. And shards. Looks like he was having a cup of tea and dropped the mug. I wonder… Doesn't smell like black tea, though. Maybe… Oh good, he left the container out. Hmmm… valerian and aniseed… fennel… lavender… Nothing dangerous. Fairly basic soporific."

"He had trouble sleeping?"

"Granger, I haven't slept with the bloke in seven years! I don't know if he had sleeping problems. If he had, he didn't mention them."

"What did you two do today?"

"Went shopping, cooked dinner, went to the pictures. Came home and said good-night."

"Which film did you watch?"

"I don't know. Something with pirates. I forgot the title."

"Hmm. That shouldn't… Did you have any stressful conversations?"

"Not that I recall. Why?"

"Let's try one more thing. If it doesn't work, you'll have to call an ambulance."

"A what? How!"

"Don't worry about that right now. You need to stay calm and see if you can get through to him. Have you ever used Legilimency?"

"No."

"Good. Then you'll only be able to touch his mind briefly and on the surface. Hopefully that will be enough to find out what happened before he fell. Do you know the spell? Can you do it?"

"Fuck, yes, Granger! Whatever it takes."

"Then go ahead."

"How do I get back out?"

"Simply by wanting to. Don't worry. You can't get stuck."

"All right. I'll have to put the phone down."

"Hurry up."

The hand that picked up his wand seemed to belong to someone else. It was trembling.

Stay calm. Focus.

_"Legilimens."_

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

_What the fuck, Potter!_ He picked up the phone. "Granger?"

"Yes!"

"Most of it was too fast, but the last thing I saw was a graveyard. It reminded me of something… There were… Death Eaters. And a cauldron. And then somebody said, 'Kill the spare'. What the hell was that?"

"That was when You-… when Voldemort came back. The night Cedric died. Did you see anything else?"

"Nothing that I could focus on. Everything was sort of… cloudy. Like a dense fog."

He heard Granger take a deep breath.

"Did he tell you about his memory block?"

"Yes. Why? What about it?"

"Memory charms can be tricky, especially when they're used to shut out extremely traumatic experiences. In rare cases, the spell affects a larger area of a person's memories than intended. It doesn't block the other memories _per se_. It just weakens their emotional impact until something causes the feelings to resurface. We are not sure what exactly happens and what causes it, but when the emotions come back, they can sometimes be… overwhelming. I think this is what happened to 's why I asked what you did today. Did you talk about the past much?"

"Merlin, Granger, we've talked about any number of things since Saturday. About N.E.W.T.s and about funny things that happened at school. What we did after Hogwarts. Nothing serious. He told me about the memory block yesterday. And he mentioned that he was really stressed after the trials, before he left Hogwarts."

"That could have triggered a flashback. Talking about the trials, I mean. But we won't know for sure until you've… woken him up."

"How do I do that?"

"With the _Venanimus _spell. Concentrate on where you are right now, then reach out with your mind and tell him that you want him to come back. Don't think about the past. It will take longer and it will be much more draining if you do. Stay focussed on the present. Can you do it?"

He scoffed. "Don't be absurd, Granger! What other options have we got? What's the spell?"

_"Venanimate._ _Finite desiderium _to end it."

"So all I do is cast the spell and concentrate on the kitchen until he wakes up?"

"That's basically it, yes. Put a hand on his arm or something. Physical contact will help. It may take a while to bring him back because you're not a trained healer and have no experience with the spell. Don't try…"

He heard her swallow.

"Just be patient," she finished. Her voice sounded… strained.

"Thank you, Granger. I owe you. Anything else?"

There was a short pause. Then, "Just wake him up, all right?"

"I will." Draco took a deep breath. "And I'll ring you… later."

He placed the phone on the kitchen table and knelt beside Harry, then glanced around to make sure that he saw the room clearly in his mind before he looked at Harry again.

_Shit, yes, I want him back! _

He took Harry's hand in his and raised his wand.

_"Venanimate."_

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

**London, approximately 22:50 (Berlin 23:50)**

Hermione put the receiver down, a detached part of her mind registering that her pulse was racing and her hands were shaking. It was a miracle that she had managed to stay so composed during the conversation with Malfoy. Now the realisation of what was happening was beginning to sink in – and that there was absolutely nothing she could do to help.

Even if she were lucky enough to round up a team of healers at this time of night, they had no way of reaching Harry and Malfoy within the next thirty minutes – which was all Malfoy had. Maybe forty.

"Please," she thought, rubbing her clammy hands, "please let Ha… let them _both _be all right."

Malfoy had sounded dangerously close to hysteria when he called. Clearly, he'd been in no shape to deal with a worst-case-scenario. Fortunately, he didn't know her well enough to sense her anxiety. Remaining calm and pretending that there was nothing to worry about had been the only way to help him. Now things were in his hands and all she could do was wait and hope for the best.

Thank God she had remembered the spell! From what she'd read, there was a good chance it would at least delay the effects of a weakening memory block, even stop them if used quickly enough.

She tried not to think about what could happen if Malfoy didn't succeed; if Harry should move beyond the reach of the spell…

A soft knock on the door interrupted her musings.

_Rats!_ What was she going to tell Ginny?

"What are some people thinking? Calling in the middle of the night and not even introducing themselves properly! Nobody I know would be so rude."

Ginny had offered to keep her company while Ron was attending the Annual Training Academy of the Magical Law Enforcement Squad in Cork. She was glad that Ginny was here, but if she didn't come up with an explanation quickly, the girl would work herself into an indignant frenzy, and that was something she'd rather not deal with right now.

"Was it somebody from that Muggle institute again?"

Thank God for the excuse!

"Yes. They're having problems with a new patient."

Ginny frowned. "Honestly, Hermione, you shouldn't do this. Stress isn't good for you so close to delivery." She strongly reminded Hermione of her mother-in-law when she stood with her hands on her hips like this. "Can't they take care of their patients themselves?"

Hermione rubbed her face tiredly. She loved the girl dearly, but becoming a birthing witch had activated the slightly overbearing trait Ginny had apparently inherited from her mother, and it could be quite annoying to be on the receiving end of it.

"Their night shift is understaffed at the moment. It's only temporary, until they've hired somebody. And they only call me when a patient is in really bad shape."

But Ginny would not be appeased so easily. "I still don't see why they have to ring you! You're not even a – what do they call them? Personologist?"

"Psychologist."

"Yes. Whatever. What are they going to do when you have Rose and can't be at their beck and call anymore?"

"Please, Ginny…" She buried her face in her hands, wishing she could share her burden with her sister-in-law. But of course, confiding in Ginny wouldn't help the boys. Besides, she didn't have the heart to tell Ginny that she'd been in touch with Harry; or the courage to confess that she had sent Malfoy after him and explain why she hadn't waited until Ron was back from Ireland.

"Fine," Ginny relented. "Are they going to be all right?"

Hermione nodded and rubbed her face tiredly.

Putting Harry's life in the hands of a Malfoy – if that wasn't ironic, she didn't know what was!

"You need to go back to bed, Hermione. It's late."

Now why did that remark hit a nerve?

"I will. As soon as I've heard back from them. They're going to let me know how the patient is. It shouldn't take but a few minutes."

"Do you need anything? Shall I make you a cup of tea?"

"No, thank you, Ginny. Some pumpkin juice would be nice, though."

Ginny had long since disappeared and she had almost finished her glass of juice when the question hit her: Why was Malfoy in Harry's flat at eleven o'clock at night and not in his hotel room?

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

**Berlin, past midnight**

Draco could hardly feel his legs anymore, his back ached, his wand hand was numb, and the hand that was clutching Harry's to his chest was slippery with sweat. He had no idea how long he'd been kneeling on the cold tiled floor. It felt like hours. And he had no idea if he was doing this right. He could feel the distinct prickle of magic flowing through his fingertips and into his wand. That and an odd sense of irrationality were the only indicators that a spell was in effect.

There had been moments when it felt as if he was getting through to Harry, as if their minds were… touching somehow. There was a gentle nudge at the back of his mind, accompanied by a strange sensation behind his eyes, as if he was trying to look backwards into his own head, and he had concentrated even harder on reaching out to Harry in these moments, but Harry was still not moving. His eyes were still staring at nothing, and Draco felt himself getting close to the point of slapping him and shouting at him to wake up, to not leave him, because he couldn't bear the thought of losing him again.

Oddly enough, right then an image of Harry on the Hogwarts Express before their first year flashed through his mind, followed by memories of the many times they had tried to get each other in trouble. The insults they had traded. Every brawl and every duel they had fought. The fateful argument that had ended in their walking out of a room, triggering the marriage curse… Which was not what he was supposed to be thinking of. _Pull yourself together!_ He closed his eyes and shook his head in an effort to regain control. C_oncentrate! Don't think of the past!_

But try as he might, he could not wrench his thoughts away from the memories that followed: their first kiss. The excitement of exploring each other. How incredible it had felt to have Harry inside him for the first time... Every passionate moment they had shared seemed to pour out of him and course through him, and his body was reacting in a very predictable way to this onslaught of erotic images, but he was unable to stop them.

And then, just when he thought he could not stand this for another minute, the pictures shifted, were replaced by memories of gentle touches, quiet conversations, and tender gestures. Draco brushing Harry's hair. _Affection._ Harry rubbing Draco's neck. _Contentment._ Calling each other by their given names. _Peace. _Flying together. _Belonging. _Laughing together. _Closeness. _Going to sleep and waking up in each others' arms. _Safety. … Trust._

At first it was so light that he thought he had imagined it, but the second time there was no mistaking the slight squeeze.

With a start, Draco opened his eyes and peered anxiously at Harry who was still motionless but whose hand had curled around Draco's.

"Harry?"

Draco laced his fingers through Harry's. He leaned over until their cheeks were almost touching and brought his mouth close to Harry's ear.

"Wake up, Harry," he said quietly. "Please." _Don't leave me!_ _I need you._

And he must have done something right, because suddenly a shudder ran through Harry. He heard a soft sigh – and then Harry's eyelids fluttered shut.

Draco let out his breath and slowly straightened up.

"Harry?" he said softly.

A frown appeared on Harry's face.

"Harry," he repeated, a little louder.

"Draco?"

A wave of relief and exhaustion washed over Draco. He let go of Harry's hand and barely managed to whisper the _Finite_ before he slumped over and almost ended up on the floor next to Harry.

"'s 'e matter?" Harry mumbled, cautiously opening his eyes again.

Draco felt unable to answer right away. Both his legs had gone to sleep, and trying to stretch them had sent what felt like an army of ants on a forced march towards his feet.

"What…" Harry blinked several times and frowned, visibly struggling to get his bearings.

"You were out of it for the last fifteen minutes or so," Draco managed through clenched teeth. The ants had reached his feet and decided to turn around and crawl back up his legs.

Harry pushed himself up on his elbow. "Out of it?" he repeated sheepishly.

"As in unconscious. Or something close to it."

"Unconscious?"

"Let's get you off the floor and then I'll explain. First I have to ring Granger, though."

"Hermione?"

"She told me the spell that brought you back."

Draco forced his legs to cooperate and stood up with an effort, then realised that he was still half hard – and remembered that he was wearing nothing but a t-shirt and a pair of boxer shorts. He felt his face heat up and quickly bent over, pretending to stretch his legs.

"Do you need a hand?" he asked when it was safe to straighten up again.

"I'm fine, I think," Harry said and picked himself off the floor.

Draco reached for the telephone and dialed Granger's number again.

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

**An hour later**

"That's the last thing I remember. And then I woke up," Harry finished.

Draco looked at him wearily. There was so much he didn't know about Harry, so many things they hadn't been able to share – just because of some misguided cretin who, in the end, couldn't even be called human anymore. He stared into his tea, wondering just how much trouble he had caused Harry with his machinations while they were at school. And why he had bothered to cook up all those stupid schemes in the first place. It seemed so small-minded and childish to his 24-year old self.

_Kill the spare!_

He shuddered.

"I wish I'd known-" he began, then stopped because he wasn't sure how to put things that had been ghosting through his head for seven years into words that didn't make him sound like a complete fool.

"How could you?" Harry asked evenly. "We weren't on speaking terms when it all happened, remember? And later we couldn't talk about it for other reasons."

Draco kept his eyes firmly on his mug. "Do you sometimes think about how… things would have been? If we had talked, I mean."

Harry shrugged. "I used to, but not anymore. It doesn't change anything, so why bother?"

Maybe that had been his problem all those years, Draco mused – he couldn't stop wondering. Apparently, Harry had moved on with his life while he, Draco, was stuck in the past. But in order to move on, one must have choices – and he didn't see many of those in his life. Or rather, he hadn't seen many… until a tiny owl had pecked on his window one morning, not very long ago. The thought made him smile.

"I wish I'd been smarter," he said slowly, beginning to feel a little groggy. "I don't know how many times Pansy tried to talk sense into me, but… Well, you know what Father's like." He swallowed. "I have no idea what's going to happen when he gets out of Azkaban, but I sure as hell wish I could be far away by then." Oh. Was that how he felt? He'd been unaware of this until it practically fell out of his mouth. How peculiar!

"Why can't you?" Harry's voice sounded genuinely puzzled.

Draco scoffed. "Have you forgotten what happened the last time he got angry with me?"

"No, I haven't," Harry said with a sigh. "Just out of curiosity, though: if you could, where would you go? Back to Prague?"

"Either that or Budapest. Maybe Vienna. Or Paris."

"Hmm," Harry said, "don't know about Budapest or Vienna, but Paris is nice. I vote for Prague, though."

"Why?" Draco looked up from his tea and stared at Harry, feeling slightly thrown off balance by the change in topic and a tone in Harry's voice he couldn't place.

"It's closer to Berlin," Harry said with a little smirk that didn't quite reach his eyes, which were intently fixed on Draco's. "Just a couple of hours by train. And from what you've told me, it must be an interesting place."

With an effort, Draco refrained from asking if Harry would like to come with him – and had to suppress a giggle when some aberrant part of his brain pointed out that he really liked the idea of eloping with his ex.

"What about you?" he asked instead, stifling a yawn. "Where would you go if you wanted to leave here?" Merlin, he was so tired all of a sudden! He felt as if someone had pulled a plug and energy was draining out of his body at an alarming rate.

Harry shrugged. "I'll move back to England eventually. Did Hermione tell you that they want me to be their daughter's godfather?"

"She might have mentioned it." Draco rubbed his eyes. "Are you going to do it?"

"I told her I'd think about it, but only after she promised she wouldn't nag me to come back to England any time soon." Harry absent-mindedly turned his mug around a couple of times before he continued, "I don't know… I don't think I'm ready to go back to the Wizarding world yet, but I don't want to stay in Berlin much longer, either. It's an interesting place, but it's… draining to live as a stranger all the time."

Draco nodded but couldn't reply. His jaw suddenly felt very heavy. As a matter of fact, his whole body did. Must be the tea. Apparently it was a stronger soporific than he'd thought. No wonder it had knocked Harry out. But no, Granger had said something about the memory block…

"Draco?" Harry's voice seemed to come from far away.

"Hm?" His head felt odd. As if someone had stuffed it with Pygmy Puffs.

"God, you must be exhausted. I shouldn't have kept you up." Harry sounded worried. "Let's get you to bed."

Draco knew there was a nicely insinuating answer to that last remark somewhere in his brain, but he had to settle for a lame "okay" because thinking was almost impossible with a head full of Pygmy Puffs. He couldn't remember closing his eyes, although he must have done so at some point because he was trying to open them just now, when he was being pulled up from his chair and onto his feet. His eyelids refused to cooperate, though. Merlin, he couldn't have felt more boneless if he'd been on the receiving end of a blow job. Preferably from Harry. He wondered briefly where that thought had come from. It was rather out of place. And it seemed to make him lightheaded and dizzy.

"Head's spinning," he complained.

"Shh. We're almost there. Just a few more steps." The voice – Harry's voice – was soothing. It felt good.

With a sigh, Draco let his head sink onto the shoulder that must belong to the arm holding him up.

"'m tired," he muttered. Talking was becoming more difficult, too, probably because it required thinking.

"I know. Here we are. Sit down."

This came not a second too soon because his legs suddenly felt so weak that he couldn't have taken another step. He was lowered onto a soft surface and would have simply fallen over if it hadn't been for the arm still around his waist. He slumped against the body next to him. Must be Harry.

"Glad you're back," he mumbled into Harry's neck. He had a feeling this kind of behaviour wasn't particularly appropriate; he just couldn't remember why.

"Lie down." The voice was definitely nice. Caring.

Screw acceptable behaviour! Holding on to somebody felt too good to worry about propriety.

"So scared," he murmured.

"Don't think about it. Everything's all right now." Gentle.

The arm was removed from his waist and he resented the loss of comfort but was too tired to protest.

"Sleep," the voice whispered, very close to his ear.

He smiled.

"Night, Harry," he whispered back. His cheek touched something fluffy. Ah! The pillow. He curled up on his side with a yawn. Yes, he would sleep now. Everything was all right.

For a moment he thought he felt... – but no, that couldn't be. Must be part of the rather vivid dream he was slipping into...


	15. Intermezzo

**A/N: **I am so happy about your lovely little notes, Arwen Applestone, Beatrisu, dairygirl, Fourth Rose, msberry, Pik Dame, and TwistedCheshy. Thank you!

**Special thanks** go to Fourth Rose for rec'ing me in her LJ. I feel very honored! If you haven't read her "Seven Days in June" yet, by all means, do so. If you like "Found", I am sure you will like her fic as well.

**And, last but not least,** let me tell you that this little chapter would be quite tedious and not the least bit sexy if it hadn't been for **my dear beta, Actias luna. Thank you so, so much!**

* * *

**__****Intermezzo  
**

**Tuesday, June 21, 2004  
****Way past 1:00 **

Harry had intended to hold Draco for just a few moments, only to make sure that he would be all right. Honestly! But things hadn't quite worked out that way. Although he'd been almost completelyasleep by the time his head touched the pillow, Draco had seized Harry's hand the moment he'd put his arm across Draco's waist. Now his fingers were wound around Harry's like Devil's Snare and wouldn't let go.

Every time Harry attempted to withdraw his hand, Draco tightened his grasp and made such a distressed noise that Harry gave up after a few tries and lay still to ponder his options – or lack thereof. Apparently, there wasn't much he could do at this point except wait and see if Draco would release his hand when he fell into deep sleep – and wasn't that the perfect excuse for snuggling against Draco's back? His inner Slytherin approved whole-heartedly. So did his body, promptly and eagerly and not at all unexpectedly, considering his reaction to their embrace of – when? Yesterday? Had it really only been yesterday?

He stretched out behind Draco and tried to make himself comfortable. It took some shifting and moving around because he had no hand free to arrange certain body parts, but eventually he managed to manoeuver his erection into a position that didn't cause him any discomfort – or, truth be told, caused anything _but_ discomfort. He wondered briefly if this could be considered taking advantage of Draco's exhausted condition, then decided against it. After all, it wasn't as if he'd planned ending up in Draco's bed like this or was going to do anything improper. With a quiet sigh, he relaxed against Draco's back.

After everything that had happened tonight, he should probably be as exhausted as Draco. Or be worried about his breakdown or whatever it had been. Or at least give it some serious thought. Or mull over the conversation he'd had with Draco afterwards. Instead, his mind was quite happily hung up on images of Draco leaning over him in the kitchen with an expression of utter relief, shivering, eyes very wide and lips very pink in his pale face. Draco straddling him on the couch this afternoon, touching him, laughing with him. Close, so close... God, how he had wanted Draco to kiss him! If Draco hadn't tickled him, he would have pulled him into his arms, wrapped his legs around him and…

Well, tickling had always been a guaranteed arousal-killer, so it hadn't taken much self-control to restrain himself. But, God, how he had wanted to kiss Draco! He might have done it regardless if Draco had given him a signal that he wanted him to; if his eyes had rested on Harry's mouth instead of just flickering across his face and then taking on that unfocussed, absent look that meant he was in a place where Harry couldn't follow. And of course such thoughts did nothing to alleviate the tension in the lower part of his body.

_Trust a Malfoy to get me into an impossible situation within twenty-four hours of arrival,_ he thought, smiling, burying his nose in Draco's hair.

And then Draco's familiar scent washed over him and connected with something deep within him, and suddenly it was all back: the loss, the heartache, the longing, the desire – feelings he had stored away and barely touched in seven years. He felt his throat constrict and fought down the urge to squeeze Draco's hand to convince himself that this was not a dream, that Draco was really here, sleeping peacefully in his arms. So close, so close, so close...

Drawing a shuddering breath, Harry closed his eyes and concentrated on the slow rising and falling of Draco's chest under their intertwined fingers. He lightly ran his thumb across the back of Draco's hand, revelling in how good it felt to hold Draco like this… how perfectly the curves of their bodies fit together… how much he wanted to run his lips along Draco's neck, slip a hand under his shirt and touch soft skin – skin that was so pale that he always expected it to smell of vanilla and to feel cool and smooth under his tongue, like whipped cream…

**Some time later**

Draco drifted slowly out ofsleep because he felt uncomfortable and constricted. His elbow touched something hard and cold in front of him while his back was too warm. What ultimately woke him, however, was the realisation that he was not alone in bed – and that there was only one person who could possibly be with him.

If it hadn't been for a bout of panic-induced paralysis and an arm around his midriff, he would have jumped out of bed. As it was, all he could do was lie still and sense into the darkness around him, straining to listen over the hammering of his heart. Much to his relief, he heard slow, regular breaths behind him. That, the steady rising and falling of the chest against his back, and the heaviness of the arm around his waist assured him that Harry was fast asleep.

So far so good.

Now what on earth was Harry doing in bed with him? Had they…? – No, it didn't feel like it. His body lacked any of its distinct post-coital sensations. So, no, they hadn't. Thank God!He would find it severely disturbing if he'd had sex with Harry for the first time in seven years and were unable to remember the details!

This, of course, only deepened the mystery ofhow Harry had ended up in Draco's bed – which was technically Harry's bed, but that was beside the point.

Now that his initial shock was over, Draco let himself relax and the situation sink in. He was facing the wall, Harry lay spooned behind him, and their fingers were firmly intertwined. No wonder he felt hot and sweaty in spite of the coolness of the wall in front of him! Cautiously, he disentangled their hands. Next, he slowly rolled onto his back, nudging Harry in the process, trying to get him to turn over and away from him.

It seemed like a good idea; unfortunately, he obviously failed to communicate it: Harry stayed where he was, and as soon asDraco lay still again, he tucked his face into Draco's shoulder with a contented sigh. As if that wasn't enough, the manoeuver had shifted his arm perilously close to Draco's groin. The next moment, something that was unmistakably an erection was pressing into Draco's hip.

His stomach did a double flip and he felt his pulse speed up considerably.

_Merlin, it's been so long!_

Draco felt himself hardening in response. He bit his lip and breathed deeply, willing himself to be still so that Harry's hand wouldn't _accidentally_ slip any further…

Should he do something? Sleep on the couch, perhaps? But Harry might wake up if he tried to crawl out from under his arm, and he didn't feel like dealing with the bumbling Gryffindorish explanations or apologies that would certainly follow. No, he'd much rather enjoy being so close to Harry again. What he probably _shouldn't_ do, though, was touch himself more than absolutely necessary while rearranging his boxers… He pulled his hand back up and put it gently on Harry's arm. It couldn't be helped. He'd have to try to go back to sleep with Harry wrapped around him and a rampant hard-on.

_Trust Potter to leave me with an itch I can't scratch! _

Twice within mere hours at that! Three times, actually, if he counted the cinema.

Draco slowly shifted his shoulder – and Harry's head – to a more comfortable position and rested his cheek against Harry's forehead. He yawned and decided that he couldn't care less _why _Harry was in his bed. The important thing was _that _he was in his bed Waking up together would be awkward and could potentially be embarrassing, but they'd cross that bridge come morning.

With a smile he closed his eyes again, feeling more at peace than he had in a long time.

* * *

**Footnote:**

Draco's thought about the bed being technically Harry's was inspired by a line from Taratext's "The Goodness of Their Hearts".


	16. A Restless Morning

**A/N: **Thank you, Beatrisu, dreamerdoll, firefly50, and FourthRose, for your wonderful feedback! I can't even begin to express how much it means to me.

I'm sorry that you had to wait so long for an update, but my dear beta, Actias luna, had severe – and absolutely justified – objections to the first version of this chapter and the edit/re-write took longer than expected. Hopefully, you'll like the result. They're getting closer…!

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_**Chapter 13: A Restless Morning **_

**Tuesday, June 22, 2004  
****Berlin-Charlottenburg, very early**

Harry woke up with his knees and one of his arms dangling over the edge of the mattress. Besides being uncomfortable, he was freezing, felt like he'd been run over by a hippogriff, had a horrible taste in his mouth, and wanted a cup of coffee. Rather badly. All of which made getting up sound like a pretty good idea. On the other hand, his back was snugly pressed against something warm and soft…

He pushed himself up on one elbow and pulled the alarm clock close enough to see. It wasn't quite as early as yesterday morning but still too early to get up on a day off. _The heck with it! _Coffee would be just as good in an hour or two. Where was his cover? Fumbling around groggily, he got hold of a handful of fabric and pulled. Nothing happened. Of course. Draco was monopolising the duvets, as usu… Oh. _Oh!_

The realisation that he was rubbing backsides with Draco very nearly caused him to tumble out of bed. It took him a few moments to remember why he and Draco had slept together and several minutes to convince himself that it might be a good idea to leave before Draco woke up – against the protests of his little inner voice who insisted he should stay, face any potential awkwardness, and finally end this frustrating state of incertitude.

He let his feet drop to the floor and sat up, retrieving his spectacles from the bedside table in the process. A quick glance over his shoulder assured him that Draco was still sound asleep, wrapped in covers like a cocoon. Waking up together had seemed perfectly natural last night; however, things looked a little different now, in broadening daylight. A picture flashed through his mind of Draco giving him one of those looks that were typically followed by sarcastic remarks, and he decided that he wasn't quite ready to deal with Slytherin snarks on an empty stomach. No, it would be better to put a nice hard run, a long hot shower and at least one cup of coffee between this moment and their breakfast together.

_So much for Gryffindor courage, _he thought, annoyed with himself, as he padded towards the bathroom across patches of light where the morning sun was reaching into the hall through windows and open doors. It promised to be another bright, sunny day.

He caught himself wishing for nasty, rainy weather so they could stay home, have a nice lazy breakfast, get comfortable in the living room afterwards and watch videos, talk, read, curl up on the couch, take naps, and… And this train of thought had to end right there because he was getting hard again. He didn't want to walk out the door tenting his shorts, and he most definitely didn't want to bring himself off over… No, it was good that the sun was shining. That way, they could spend most of the day outside. Far away from the couch.

_Or the armchair._

If only this ruddy inner voice would…

_Or the bed._

…shut up!

_Maybe it'll rain this afternoon._

He sighed.

**Berlin-Charlottenburg, around 8:30 (London 7:30)**

"'lo?"

"Harry? I'm sorry, did I wake you up?"

"Hermione! No, you didn't wake me up. I just came back from jogging." – It had been another futile attempt to at least diminish the gap between his brain and his body. He could probably run the Berlin Marathon these days and be none the wiser afterwards. – "I was going to call you tonight."

"I wanted to check on you before I go to work. Are you feeling all right? No headaches or dizziness or anything unusual? Did you sleep well?"

Harry laughed. "Yes to the first question, no to the others, and yes, I slept very well. I'm okay, really. How are you?"

"Fine. A little tired, though. That was quite a shock yesterday."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"Don't be silly. It wasn't your fault. I'm only glad Malfoy had the presence of mind to call me. How is he?"

"Still out like a light. But it's not even half nine, so that's no surprise. We stayed up late yesterday night, talking. Which reminds me: do you know if it's, erm, normal to behave a little… strange after this sort of spell?"

"Strange?"

"Well, at first he seemed perfectly fine, but then he started acting almost as if he was drunk or something. You know… slurred speech, trouble standing up and walking straight, getting sort of, erm… cuddly…"

"Cuddly?"

He could almost _hear_ her eyebrows shoot up. Just as she could probably feel the heat of his blush.

"Not _cuddly _cuddly. He leaned his head on my shoulder when I helped him to his room, that's all. It just didn't feel as if he was only tired. He was… different." He let out a frustrated breath. Hopefully, Hermione would make sense of it somehow.

"Harry, please, don't make me play twenty questions. It's exhausting and I haven't got much time this morning."

Apparently she couldn't.

"Sorry." He sighed. "The past couple of days he sort of… phased out a lot, as if his mind was wandering off somewhere. But yesterday night he seemed to be really _present_. I can't describe it better."

Hermione hm'd, then cleared her throat. "It's certainly not unusual to be a little off after such a spell, especially someone who's untrained. Did he say anything about what happened after he cast the spell? Before you woke up? "

"No, but I didn't ask him. I should have, but I wasn't thinking too straight after I first came to."

"Do _you_ remember anything?"

Harry felt a strange sensation spread out from his stomach and his heart do its slowing-down-beating-really-loud-thing again. How odd that Hermione should ask about something he had only just remembered during his run!

"There was… something. I know it wasn't a memory, but I'm not sure that it was real, either." He swallowed. "He asked me not to… leave him. And he said that he… needed me."

After everything his friends had been through with him, there was really no reason for him to be embarrassed by making such a confession. Heck, Hermione had been there during the whole mess with Draco in seventh year! But still…

There was a long silence.

"Hermione?" he finally asked, a little uncertain.

"Hmm… Do you remember anything else?"

Well, there was the fact that they'd spent the night in the same bed, of course. – The strange sensation dropped a couple of inches and turned into a pool of heat, undulating lazily in the general vicinity of his tailbone. No need to mention thatto Hermione unless he absolutely had to.

"He… when I helped him to his room, he said he was glad I was back. And that he'd been scared."

Hermione hm'd again.

"I don't know what to tell you, Harry. I can't be one hundred per cent sure, of course. I'm a Mental Maladies Specialist, not a Healer. But if you need a diagnosis, I'd say it sounds like exhaustion after using difficult magic. He'll probably have a headache when he wakes up and he might not remember much of what happened yesterday night. If he remembers anything at all. Let him sleep it off and make sure he eats a good breakfast and he should be all right."

"I don't… I'm… Thank you, but I guess I need more than a diagnosis," Harry stuttered, then added hastily, "I mean, I'm glad it's just exhaustion. I was a little worried." He ran a hand through his hair, trying to find the right words. "But I was wondering if… Do you think he meant it?" There it was, out in the open, the question that had been plaguing him all morning. It made him feel better immediately.

A brief pause. Then, "Do you wish he'd meant it?"

Another silence.

"What if I said yes?" he asked very quietly.

He heard her take a deep breath and steeled himself for a lecture of sorts, but she only said, "I can't say I'd be surprised."

"Oh? Why not?" Now what kind of moronic question was that? Harry shook his head at himself. And was that a giggle he had just heard on the other end of the line?

"I had a feeling this might happen, ever since he rang me Saturday night, all indignant because you were, erm, living with a girlfriend."

"I told him Star's not _that _kind of girlfriend and- Wait a minute. He called you?"

"Of course he did, you fork!" – Yes, that was definitely a giggle. – "What did you expect? That he'd find you and not tell me?"

"Er…"

"Anyway, I had my suspicions about his motives from the moment he agreed to go see you without much ado. Oh, and letting me drag him around Muggle London and chew his ears off for two days was a bit of a giveaway, too. He didn't even make a fuss when I took him to Harrod's and told him he needed some less conspicuous outfits."

"I'm amazed you ever made it out of there," Harry said dryly. "I had to take him jeans shopping yesterday and I swear it took hours!"

"Oh, right, we didn't get around to the denims. Not enough time. Sorry," she said, sounding not the least bit sincere.

"No, you're not!" He couldn't help grinning.

"Got me there." For a moment, she sounded positively gleeful before returning to her usual practical manner."So what are you going to do now?"

Harry felt the light mood dissipate. "I don't know," he said truthfully. "It's not like we _are_ back together or anything…"

"Do you want to be, though?"

Harry bit his lip. Memories of the past few days started floating around in his mind, joined by images of the previous night.

"What if I said yes?"

It felt like stepping off the five meter diving platform at the public pool: terrifying, exhilarating, electrifying, and liberating all at once.

She hesitated audibly.

"I don't know what to say, Harry," she said after a few moments. "I want you to be happy, I really, really do. But if you two get together again… You realise it's not going to be easy, don't you? The papers are going to besiege both of you, wherever you go or wherever you live. There is not a whole lot in the Wizarding world for the _Prophet_ to write about these days. You and Malfoy – that would be just what they're waiting for. You wouldn't have a moment's peace, neither one of you, no matter what you do or where you go."

"I know," he sighed, "I can't say I look forward to the media hype. Anything but, actually. But I'll deal with it. If I could shut up Sirius' mother, I'd do up Grimmauld Place and hide, er, stay there for a while." He snapped his fingers. "Hey, do you think painting Spellotape across her mouth might work?"

"Harry!"

He laughed. "Just an idea. But seriously, it's really too early to think about any of that." _We haven't even kissed yet._

"It's never too early to be prepared." _Good old Hermione!_

"You're right. Maybe it would be easier to put a blanket over her head and fix it to the frame with a permanent sticking charm. Or a nailgun!"

"Honestly, Harry, you're impossible!" But she laughed with him and he felt a surge of affection for his old friend.

"Don't worry about me, Hermione. I'm a big boy. I can take care of myself."

"I just… Oh Harry, please make sure you both know what you're getting yourselves into. If you want to be together, I'll help you as much as I can. We all will. You know that, right? And so should Malfoy, unless he's a total dumbass."

"Hermione!"

He expected her to giggle at his feigned shock, but instead she cleared her throat and said, in a suddenly small voice, "Harry, I'm sorry, but I have to go to work and there is something I need to tell you before I go."

oOoOoOoOoOo

The kitchen clock showed Harry that twelve minutes had passed since Hermione's… revelation.

_There is something I need to tell you._

It was amazing how much one's life could change in just twelve minutes.

Although, for some bizarre reason, he found a morbid hilarity in his situation, because here he was, six years after the Death Eater conflict, healthy and relatively happy with his life, and who but a Malfoy could change that within a matter of days? Of course his "flashback", as Hermione had called it, hadn't been Draco's fault. As a matter of fact, he'd been damn lucky that Draco had been there to help. It was just kind of… ironic that something like this should happen while he was here.

_Draco… I need to talk to Draco._

There was no way around it. He'd have to tell him. The sooner the better. This morning, actually. But not right away. He didn't want to burden their first breakfast together with potentially alarming news. Especially after last night's stressful events. Besides, the Botanical Garden would be a more pleasant location for such a conversation. A few hours more or less would make no difference. And right now, the most important thing was to ensure that Draco would be all right.

oOoOoOoOoOo

Draco rolled onto his back – and wished immediately he hadn't moved. His head felt as if a Blast-Ended Skrewt was shooting off in his skull. He'd always thought that "to see stars" was merely a figure of speech, but it was a very accurate description of what was currently going on behind his eyelids.

_Oh please no!_ he thought desperately as his stomach clenched. Saliva started flooding his mouth and he swallowed hard. He couldn't suppress a whimper. There was no way he would make it to the toilet if-

"Draco?"

_Thank God! _He would probably be embarrassed to look Harry in the face later, but right now it was an immense relief to know that he wasn't alone.

The mattress dipped beside him. He heard a soft, hissing noise and then Harry's hushed voice again.

"I know you have a headache. I brought you something to make you feel better. D'you think you can sit up?"

The mere _thought _of moving seemed to increase the pounding in Draco's head. All he could do was grit his teeth to keep his stomach from turning inside out.

"Wait, let me help you," Harry murmured. "Can you hold this?" Something cool touched the back of Draco's hand where it rested on his chest. He slowly moved his fingers and closed them around what must be a cup or glass.

He felt Harry move. Then his head was being lifted and he almost let go off the glass as blinding pain made him see stars again, but somehow he managed to bring his lips to the glass and drink its fizzling content. It tasted unpleasant – salty and bitter – but to his surprise, his stomach calmed down almost immediately.

_Thank Merlin and all the gods!_

"It's a double dose, but it will take a few minutes to work. Just lie still and try to relax. You should feel better soon."

Nodding was out of the question and his head hurt too much to be able to form coherent words, but he wanted to let Harry know that he was listening, so he made a small sound – and regretted it instantly when the vibration caused another bout of throbbing pain. He squeezed his eyes shut and swallowed a groan.

"See if you can get some more sleep," Harry said softly. "I'll check on you in a little while."

_Yes, Mister Pomfrey, _Draco thought. He didn't dare laugh but discovered that he could smile without aggravating his headache.

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

The next time he woke up, his head had cleared and there was no trace of nausea. As a matter of fact, his stomach demanded forcefully that he go find the source of an enticing smell his nose had just picked up.

Draco yawned and rubbed his eyes. He didn't want to leave the bed yet. It was nice and warm and smelled so familiar, and he was more comfortable than he had been in ages. Although, he felt well rested. He couldn't remember the last time he'd slept so soundly; or woken up hungry. Right on cue, his stomach grumbled again. Draco decided not to force the issue and got up.

He poked his head in the kitchen on his way back from the bathroom.

"Harry?"

The room was as empty as the rest of the flat, but the appetising smell was definitely coming from in here.

Draco was debating with himself whether the polite guest should wait until his host reappeared instead of simply delving into the pantry, so to speak, when the lock clicked and Harry stepped through the entrance door.

"Oh, you're up! Good! Feeling better?"

There was, Draco told himself sternly, really no reason for his pulse to speed up _that much_ just because Harry smiled at him and asked how he felt. Especially this early in the morning!

"Much better. Thank you."

"Hungry?"

"Oh gods am I!" Draco practically groaned, then felt a little embarrassed by this heartfelt admission, but Harry laughed and pointed at the cooker. "Bacon and eggs are in the pan. Help yourself."

He opened the paper bag he had brought in and emptied it into a basket. "We have fresh rolls, too. I didn't know what kind you like, so I got one of each."

Draco blinked in astonishment. "That must be a dozen!"

Harry grinned. "Yeah. Very German. They're obsessed with bread. They basically live off the stuff. That and beer."

"Beer." Draco made a face. "It was a big thing in Prague, too, but I could never really get used to the taste." He placed knives and forks on the table, then opened the cupboard and took out two plates while Harry put on the kettle.

"D'you want tea or coffee? I'm afraid we don't have pumpkin juice."

"I've had enough pumpkin juice at school to last me a lifetime, thank you very much. What do you normally have with breakfast?"

"Coffee. Well, _latte_, actually."

"That would be what in English?"

"You'll see. Go ahead and start eating. I'll make coffee."

Draco inspected the bread basket. The rolls were definitely… interesting. Some were covered in what looked like the seeds Mother put out for the birds. They all smelled good, though. He randomly picked one and cut it open.

Harry gestured at the table. "Butter's in the covered dish over there. If you like jam, we have strawberry, raspberry, or apricot."

"Hmm… How about some of each?"

There was that smile again. Draco felt a tingle move down his spine and an image drifted through his mind of Harry's body pressed against his back and their fingers firmly intertwined, resting against Draco's chest. He blinked. Where on earth had that come from?

"So you still have a sweet tooth," Harry observed and placed several jars in front of Draco, who made a noncommittal noise and took a cautious bite of his roll.

"This is good!"

"Glad you like it." Harry looked pleased. He had taken a glass pitcher off the shelf and was now fiddling with some Muggle contraption. Suddenly, a shrill whining filled the kitchen.

Draco dropped his fork.

"What in Merlin's name are you doing?"

"Sorry," Harry said and grinned a bit sheepishly, "that's the coffee grinder. I should have warned you."

Draco shook his head and retrieved his fork.

"Birdseed on rolls, machines that wail like banshees... Makes me wonder what's next! You have a lot of explaining to do, _Potter."_

Harry smirked. "You'll have to stay a lot longer, then, _Malfoy." _

Right then the kettle whistled and Harry turned his attention to whatever it was he had to do, which was a good thing because Draco couldn't think of any other response than "I'd love to". He decided to let it pass and opened one of the jars. Raspberry. Perfect! And it went unexpectedly well with birdseed.

They spent several minutes in comfortable silence while Draco ate and watched Harry move around the kitchen swiftly and efficiently, with those precise movements that Draco's mind still associated with seeing him on a broom. _Three out of five, _he thought wistfully. He'd missed their Seekers' Games for the longest time. Still did, as a matter of fact.

"Do you miss flying?" he asked before he could stop himself.

Harry stilled for a moment before he nodded. "Sometimes. Not too often, though. It's not like there's an abundance of broomsticks around here to remind me. What about you? Do you still fly?"

"Occasionally. I try to keep up my Quidditch moves, but practising by myself is a little dull." _That's putting it mildly! Depressing is more like it. _Only then did it occur to him that the whole topic could be considered depressing and that it had probably been insensitive to bring it up. Well, too late now!

"God, I haven't played since Hogwarts! Quidditch is probably the only thing I miss about school," Harry said, "that and the food, actually." He didn't sound depressed. "When was the last time you played?"

"At the Academy. Every seminar had its own team. I was Chaser for Wardigo's Wyverns until I graduated." Draco smiled at the memory. "VavrinecWardigo was our Potions Master. He could be meaner than a Hungarian Horntail, hence the team name."

Harry chuckled. "You were on the mean team again?"

"Hah! If you think Slytherin was mean, be glad you never had to play against the Wyverns." Draco grinned.

"And here I always thought Slytherins were sly and ambitious, not mean."

Draco stared at him, then shook his head. "And here I thought Memory Charms were supposed to erase memories, not eliminate brain cells!"

He hadn't really meant anything by his remark, but Harry stopped smirking and suddenly looked… tense. "How come you didn't play Seeker?" he asked.

Draco shrugged. "Someone else had a better broom." – Slender, boyish Marika, with her short black curls and big brown eyes. They'd nicknamed her Krumova, but Draco felt much more reminded of Harry when he watched her fly, all elegance and recklessness in the air…

"What? Your father sent you to some time-honoured Wizarding university without the latest Firebolt model?"

Now why did the git have to say that? Father had never, ever led to pleasant conversations between them. It was unavoidable that they should speak about him, but did it have to be over their first breakfast together?

"Father didn't want me to play Quidditch at all. Said I'd just drag out my studies if I did."

"And? Did you? Drag out your studies, I mean?"

Draco snorted. "Of course not, although I wasn't exactly eager to go back to England after everything that had happened."

Harry sat down across from him. "Coffee will be just a minute," he said and began picking through the contents of the bread basket, not looking at Draco.

"So what are you going to do after you get back?" he asked casually, buttering a roll, still avoiding Draco's gaze.

"Father said he'll need me when he gets out…" Draco shrugged.

"Does he? What for?"

"I'm not sure."

Harry frowned slightly. "He hasn't told you?"

Draco felt his stomach tighten and put his fork down. "Not exactly, no. He'll probably want me to take some things off our solicitor's back. The man has more than enough on his plate as it is."

_Here we go! Come on, be a good little Gryffindor and tell me that I need to grow up and have a life of my own._

To his surprise, Harry remained silent and gazed out the window for a long moment, his eyes slightly unfocussed.

"It's hard," he finally said quietly, almost to himself, "you want to live up to people's expectations and at the same time you want to find out what you want for yourself – and then you feel bad whenthe two are different things." He blinked, returning his attention to Draco. "It must be even harder when those people are family. Especially an old one like yours. All those traditions and whatnot. Like hundreds of years of expectations piled on top of you."

It took Draco's brain several seconds to process this remark and assure him that he had heard right. He stared at his vis-à-vis, unsure what to make of this annoyingly even-tempered person.

"It has nothing to do with expectations and everything with money. My father might be in Azkaban, but unfortunately he is and will remain very much in control of the family vaults," he said tersely.

"I always thought you'd get into Potion Making. You know, develop new potions and stuff. Maybe have your own laboratory."

Draco scoffed. "I should be so lucky!"

"You don't think your father would want you to do that?" Harry looked genuinely puzzled. "Why let you study Potion Making then?"

Draco shrugged. "To get me out of England, I suppose."

Harry gave him a long, thoughtful look. "What d'you think he would say if you told him you wanted to start your own business?"

"And let me off the family hook? Not bloody likely."

And if this wasn't the perfect opportunity for Harry to remind him of the horrible things Lucius had done to his son and to tell him to show some backbone and crawl out from under Father's thumb, he didn't know what was!

But Harry only raised an eyebrow and shook his head. "Strange. I always thought he'd want you to follow in his footsteps and be a businessman," was all he said before he attended tohis bacon and eggs.

Draco stared at him, momentarily speechless. A rather large part of him bristled at the sight of Harry chewing heartily while his own stomach was a bundle of raw nerves for the third time in three days.

"What's happened to you? Taking the Muggle equivalent of a patience potion?" he finally sneered – and mentally kicked himself. He should really be above such immature jibes!What in Merlin's name was wrong with him all of a sudden?

And why did it make him feel even worse when Harry looked amused and said, "No, but it's amazing how much it puts you at ease when you no longer have to feel in mortal danger every waking moment of your life. I'm grateful for that. And that I have no obligations and can do as I please, regardless of what anybody else wants."

Draco scowled. He felt miserable but couldn't figure out why. "Well, good for you. Unfortunately, not everybody is as lucky as you, Potter."

"I know," Harry said quietly.

To Draco's relief, no spiteful answer fell out of his mouth this time – probably because he simply found himself at a loss for words at this… alien Harry –, and then something started beeping and interrupted the line of conversation.

Harry got up and returned with two pots which he tipped over a large mug, pouring coffee from one and from the other – hot milk? Draco raised an eyebrow at Harry who grinned and handed him the cup. "_Latte_," he said, filling his own mug, "or _café au lait_, as the French have it. Sugar?" He took the lid off a large bowl and let Draco help himself before he spooned a generous amount into his own cup.

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

They stirred and sipped quietly for a few moments, then Harry set his mug down with a slightly uncomfortable but determined look on his face and cleared his throat.

"I… didn't say thank you for last night," he said – and there it was again, the image of Harry nestled against his back, only this time it was followed by another, more intimate one: Harry's arm wrapped around him, his head on Draco's shoulder, evidence of his arousal pressing into Draco's side…

_What in all hells…? _

Only Draco's deeply ingrained self-control enabled him to keep his jaw from dropping. He frowned and gave Harry the blankest look he could muster.

"You don't remember."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Remember what?" He didn't have to pretend to be confused.

"Finding me on the floor? Sort of, erm, unconscious? Talking to Hermione? The _Venanimus_ spell?"

"What are you…" And then Draco's jaw _did_ drop as last night's events came rushing back at him from wherever they had spent the last couple of hours, the onset of another migraine hard on their heels.

Closing his eyes didn't do anything to stop the jumble of images, just as rubbing his temples did nothing against the faint throbbing in his head.

"Are you all right? D'you need another Alka-Seltzer?" Harry sounded worried, but Draco didn't have the energy to tell him off for turning Granger on him.

"A what?"

"The stuff I gave you this morning. Muggle hangover potion."

He kept his eyes closed and breathed deeply, trying to think about something else, because the expectation of pain and stars and nausea would bring them on all the faster. Unfortunately, the only thing that came to mind was the question what _Harry _remembered of the previous night…

"I'm not hung over."

…and why he'd left before Draco had woken up!

"True. You just drained your magic with that spell. At least that's what Hermione said."

Magic drain – that certainly made sense. It explained the headache this morning and the fact that he hadn't remembered anything about last night until the sudden rush of memories just now – and no, he would _not_ blush at some of them!

"She rang earlier, before she went to work," Harry continued, his voice coming from the direction of the sink. "She said you'd wake up with a headache and not remember much."

Draco heard water run, then some rustling noises and a faint "plop", followed by the soft hissing he remembered from earlier this morning. He cautiously lifted an eyelid to see a glass filled with a milky-looking, fizzying liquid float into view.

"Here you are. Bottoms up!"

"Thank you."

He took the glass and drained it. It tasted even more unpleasant than the first time. Apparently, Muggle potion makers were just as inconsiderate as their wizard counterparts when it came to the taste of their remedies.

"So Granger phoned, huh? Mother Hen checking on her chicks?"

"Don't tell me you're surprised!" Harry laughed. "She won't have time for mothering us any longer once she has her baby, though. Let's enjoy the old Hermione as long as we have her."

"Us" and "we"? Draco felt something warm spread out from the pit of his stomach.

"Yeah. Right. Let's. My guess is that she'll get worse. I bet you ten galleons she's going to turn from Mother _Hen_ into Mother _Goose_ next."

They grinned at each other and Draco's heart sped up again because it felt so _good_ to be with Harry like this; and if a chat at the breakfast table had such an effect on his pulse, he'd probably have a heart attack the first time they kissed… God, how he wanted to kiss Harry! And if the git hadn't been such a coward and sneaked out of his bed, they'd probably have done it by now!

He picked up his half-eaten roll and took a bite to redirect his thoughts to more… pressing matters, such as, "What are we going to do today, Mr. Tour Guide?"

"Get loads of fresh air."

"Where?"

"That's a surprise. Eat up. Hermione is going to pull me through the wire tonight if I can't report that you have slept like a log and eaten like a horse."

"Beg your pardon?"

There was that smile again!

"Mother Hen's remedy for magic drain: let him sleep it off and feed him a good breakfast. The headache potion was my idea, though."

"I figured as much. No caring soul would have their unsuspecting patient imbibe something so vile. What were you trying to do? Shock me into well-being?"

Harry smirked. "Brilliant, isn't it? The nastier the medicine, the more you want to get better – and as quickly as possible. I'm not as good at it as Aunt Petunia, though. She practically developed it into an art form when Dudley and I were little."

Draco searched his face for a moment but found no bitterness at the mention of his relatives, just amusement. He shook his head and resumed eating. _Savages!_

"Old hag!" he muttered under his breath, pleased when he heard Harry chuckle.

* * *

**Footnotes: **

A **wyvern** is a winged reptilian legendary creature, similar to a European dragon, but with only two legs. Its voice sounds like a whistle or flute. It resembles another mythical creature, the cockatrice, which in turn is similar to the basilisk. (Wikipedia)

**Alka-Seltzer** is a brand name owned by the German Bayer Corporation for a line of medications sold over the counter and taken by means of rapidly dissolving tablets that form an effervescent solution in water. A combination of aspirin, baking soda and citric acid, Alka-Seltzer is a remedy for headache, indigestion, and hangover. (Wikipedia)


	17. Looking at Each Other

**A/N: **Many thanks for your feedback and encouraging words, AngelikRebel, brokenwindowpane, Delia, dreamerdoll, FourthRose, mandraco, and "reviewer"! I know I've mentioned it before, but I can't say often enough how much I appreciate your taking the time to leave me a note – just as I can't thank Actias luna enough for her superb beta work.

* * *

**_Chapter 14: Looking at Each Other_ **

**Tuesday, June 21, 2004  
****Botanical Garden Berlin, around 11:00**

"Sorry," Harry muttered for what must be the twentieth time since they'd entered the greenhouse and told himself that their excursion might be more enjoyable for Draco if he didn't get run over each time he stopped to take a closer look at a plant or study the metal name stake next to it.

Not that Draco was complaining.

Judging from his abrupt changes in direction and those unexpected stops that led to the frequent collisions between his back and Harry's front, he seemed to forget at times that Harry was even there. And that was generally fine with Harry, who was having a hard time focussing on the here and now after the bumpy bus ride they'd had to endure to reach the Botanical Garden.

They'd been bounced around for a good ten minutes, finding themselves in frequent need to hold on to each other's sleeves to stay on their feet, and the almost constant physical contact had wreaked havoc on Harry's ability to string coherent thoughts together. Of course, it didn't improve his concentration that he kept thinking about the previous night; or that with every time he stumbled into Draco, it became harder to keep his hands to himself – which was why he finally shoved them into his pockets.

And he still had to fill Draco in on what Hermione had told him on the phone earlier.

"Penny for your thoughts, Potter."

Well, his run this morning had not resulted in the answer he'd hoped for, but he thought he had at last figured out the "Potter" thing: Draco seemed to use it when he needed to keep Harry at a distance. Oddly enough, it also appeared to be his equivalent for "mate", a word that apparently didn't belong to the vocabulary of elitist pure-bloods like the Malfoys because Harry had never heard Draco call anybody "mate". Still… he wished Draco would say his given name more often…

"Harry?"

"Huh?" He looked up to find Draco gaze at him with a slight frown on his face.

"You're 'spacing out', as you so eloquently put it the other day. What's the matter?"

Harry shrugged. "Nothing. Just thinking."

"You must have a lot on your mind. You've hardly said a word these past twenty minutes."

There was only a hint of sarcasm in his tone, and the way he studied Harry's face did all kinds of things to Harry except improve his ability to think; otherwise he might have pointed out that Draco hadn't said much of significance either… unless one counted plant names or the occasional lecture on some potion or other.

_Pull yourself together!_

If only he could get his thoughts into something resembling order and concentrate on what he needed to _say _to Draco instead of what he wanted to _do _with him! Maybe he shouldn't have told Hermione so much this morning. No matter how he looked at her comments, they'd sounded encouraging to him and now they kept replaying over and over in his head.

_I had a feeling this might happen… suspicions about his motives… indignant about your girlfriend… If you want to be together… We'll help you… _

He quashed a frustrated growl and pushed his hands deeper into his pockets.

_Just get it over with!_

He took a deep breath.

"I need to tell you something. But not here."

The gardens were unexpectedly crowded for a workday. There always seemed to be people in earshot, which was the main reason why he found it difficult to talk to Draco – that and the fact that he preferred watching Draco over recalling the last minutes of his conversation with Hermione. A prickling sensation slithered across his body every time Draco gently rubbed a leaf or touched a flower with his long, slender fingers…

He narrowly avoided another collision when Draco stopped to open a door and let them out of the greenhouse. Squeezing the bridge of his nose, he sharply called himself to order while he looked around, trying to recall what part of the gardens they were in.

"Let's get away from the masses." He gestured at a small path to their right, obscured by tufts of tall grasses. "This way."

If he remembered correctly, it led to a spot off the main footpaths, which – if they were lucky – would offer more privacy. He wondered why he hadn't thought of it right from the start, but then again, he'd been content to trail behind Draco and hear him talk about herbs and potions and the greenhouses at the Academy.

It was good to see Draco so relaxed, almost happy, and to notice little things about him: the way he tilted his head to look at something, the expression on his face when he caught an interesting scent, how the sun reflected off his hair, the way his lips moved when he read a name plate, how carefully, almost reverently, he touched the plants…

"So what did you want to tell me?"

Harry startled a little as Draco's question reached into his reverie.

The path was too narrow for them to walk side by side, and Draco's voice sounded odd coming from behind him. Almost disembodied…

_Head cocked to the side, Voldemort is staring at him, red eyes boring into his own.  
Voldemort's mouth moving.  
"Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived."  
Voldemort raising his wand.  
A flash of green light.  
_

_It's nothing,_ he told himself resolutely and swallowed, _just a memory. _

There was only the slight problem that this memory shouldn't be there! Inhaling deeply, he covered his face with both hands, pressing his fingertips hard into the skin to push back the presence he felt hovering in his mind, just beyond the reach of his consciousness, threatening to drag him under-

A painful kick against his left heel, accompanied by a loud, "Oy!" and followed by, "Watch it, Potter!" alerted him to the fact that this time _he_ had stopped unexpectedly. Fortunately, it also jolted him back into reality.

_To hell with it. _What difference did it make when or where he said what he needed to say? He turned to face Draco.

"I have to go to London," he blurted out, "Hermione is going to send a Portkey as soon as she can. Tomorrow, most likely."

"What? London? Why?"

Under different circumstances, he would have found it amusing to watch Draco gape and fumble for words. As things were, he was busy trying to ignore how close they were standing and what it was doing to him.

"She thinks there could be something wrong with my memory block. She wants me to get it checked," he said tersely before he turned back around and slowly resumed walking, wondering if he should tell Draco about his latest... recollection. Decided not to.

_Maybe it was just my imagination._

"Something wrong with your memory block? Why? What did she say?"

Draco's voice was coming from his left now. The path was still too narrow. Harry could hear the rustle of Draco's jeans as he walked, feel his body warmth… He'd always been so much warmer than Harry… Close, so close…

_Not close enough._

Harry returned his hands to his pockets.

"Nothing specific, but... She thinks that this… 'flashback' yesterday means the memory block could be damaged. I guess it's… I don't know… leaking or something." Now that he'd started talking he wondered why he hadn't done it sooner. It felt good to get this off his chest. "She wants me to see an old professor of hers. Apparently he's _the _Memory Charms expert in England."

Draco made a sceptical noise. "Sounds fishy, if you ask me. I've never heard of a memory block 'leaking' and they certainly don't get damaged, not unless someone tries to break them."

"I asked her about that, but she said she doesn't know enough about Memory Charms." Harry shot a quick sideways glance at Draco, who was looking at the ground, his hair falling forward, concealing his features.

"Did she mention anything to you when you talked to her yesterday night?" His stomach squirmed at a memory of Draco's hair soft against his face… his hand clutching Harry's to his heart…

"No. She said something about the spell possibly affecting a larger area than intended and something about it suppressing emotions. But she didn't mention any problems with the block itself."

"She probably didn't want to alarm you. She said you sounded a little… panicked when you rang her."

Draco gave him one of those looks but only made a noncommittal noise.

"So where are you going to meet this professor?"

"Grimmauld Place."

"That gloomy shack you talked about the other night? Why there?"

"We can't meet at Hermione's because Ginny's staying with her at the moment. And I don't want to show my nose anywhere near Wizarding London. Not yet, anyway. Grimmauld Place is unplottable and far away from Diagon Alley, so it's the logical choice."

Harry glanced at Draco again, not sure what to say next. He was very ambivalent about this whole London business. He had looked forward to exploring Berlin with Draco. There were so many things to see and to do… Like curl up on the couch together and watch videos…

"I'm… sorry," he said quietly, noting that he felt distinctly unhappy right now. Unhappy and cheated – out of interesting times.

"Whatever for?" Draco sounded… Harry wasn't sure exactly how he sounded except that it wasn't upset. Strangely enough, that didn't make him feel better.

"Because I wanted to do stuff with you." He shrugged and almost left it at that, then quickly added, "Remember that classic concert the girls were talking about Saturday? The open air at the Forest Theatre? That sounded interesting."

"And? Why can't we go? It's on Thursday, isn't it?" _That_ sounded puzzled. "It cannot take long to check a memory block. Granger's probably got her knickers in a twist about nothing, anyway. We'll just go see the old geezer and Portkey right back."

_We?_ There went Harry's heart again, doing its slowing-down-et cetera routine.

"You want to come with me?"

"Why not?" Now Draco sounded amused. "The war is over. You can take me to your charming ex-headquarter without having to kill me. Unless you'd rather keep the place to yourself, that is."

"No, of course not," Harry said hastily, "that's not what I meant."

"What did you mean, then?"

"I thought that maybe you'd rather… go home."

"With 'home' you mean Wiltshire, I suppose," Draco replied tensely after a brief pause, and the edge in his voice made Harry think of him holed up at the Manor with Narcissa Malfoy again. "Why would I want to do that?"

"I don't know. Check on things?"

"I told you I'm not needed there right now."

Which reminded Harry of another question that had popped into his mind during his morning run.

"What do you do at home all day, if you don't mind my asking? It's just you and your mother, isn't it?"

"Most of the time, yes. Our solicitor drops in from time to time, or a business partner. – And if you as much as _think_ you're sorry, I'll dump you in that lake over there."

"Why…" Harry blinked, then laughed. "Okay, you got me. Guess I might as well go ahead and jump in. Although I was more thinking of…"

"Don't!"

He had to turn around to look at Draco, because Draco had stopped and was now standing in the middle of the path, glaring at him – sort of.

"What?"

"Don't say that either!"

"Say what?"

"That you were worried."

Now he definitely felt caught out! He ran a hand through his hair, slightly embarrassed, yet unable to keep the grin off his face, and he could see that Draco's lips were quirking as well, although Draco was much better at controlling his facial features than he was.

"So much for trying to be subtle."

Draco rolled his eyes, and the look on his face reminded Harry so much of the seventeen-year-old Draco that he felt sorely tempted to grab him by the shirt,pull him close, kiss him wildly… Imagining Draco's expression if he actually did something as bold as that made it impossible to stop grinning.

"You? You are about as subtle as a broomstick," Draco declared, trying to look superior, but Harry could tell that he was about to lose the battle against his facial muscles, which were tugging mightily at the corners of his mouth.

Still smirking, Harry turned around again.

**oOoOoOoOoOo **

Draco watched Harry disappear around the bend and gave himself a moment to get his face under control.

_Stop grinning like an imbecile!_ he told himself sternly. _Something's not right here. Get a grip and use your brain!_

Unfortunately, he wasn't operating at full intellectual capacity at the moment. Every time Harry had bumped into him, it had taken more willpower to keep from turning around and grabbing him. Add the fact that he'd been putting up with recurring and persistent erections for the last twenty-four hours – without the prospect of relief at that! –, and he also ought to be cranky. Instead, he felt pleasantly dazed and almost as if he were floating – not usually a symptom of sexual frustration.

And here he was with his mind in his pants again!

He shook his head and rubbed his face.

_Think!_

London. What was up with that trip to London? He found it hard to believe that Granger really knew so little. Protective as she may be of Harry, she wouldn't have ordered him to London the next day unless she was worried. Which meant the situation must be worse than she'd led Harry to believe. Chances were that she'd made light of the matter in order not to upset Harry.

If only he had an idea what the problem could be!

"Draco?"

The sound of Harry's voice from somewhere ahead made him realise that he was still standing in the middle of the path. He instructed his feet to start moving again.

_Damn! _What had Granger said about memory blocks? She'd asked what they'd done and talked about all day… _Wait! _Hadn't she said something about stress possibly triggering a flashback? But that didn't make sense. Harry must have been in other stressful situations and conversations over the past few years, and apparently nothing like this had ever happened. So it had to be something else… Deep in thought, Draco wandered around the corner.

It took him several seconds to notice that Harry had led them to a lovely spot: They were standing in a gazebo overlooking the lake that Draco had glimpsed through the trees earlier. A light breeze rippled the water, dragonflies were darting back and forth among the reeds, a group of turtles was resting on a log, basking in the sun. It was such a peaceful, pleasant scene that it seemed to quiet the constant roar of the city around them simply by its existence.

Harry had stepped up to the balustrade of the gazebo to lean against one of the wrought-iron pillars that supported the roof of the little building, and for some reason the question why he had left last night sidled up to Draco's mind again.

He hoped that the simplest answer was the correct one: that Harry had been too embarrassed to stay. If memory served him correctly – and he was pretty sure it did –, Harry had not only helped him to bed, he also hadn't made much of an effort to get out of it. At least not until very late at night or very early in the morning.

However, there was, of course, the possibility that Harry had thought he was hugging his girl-… bed-... roommate. Draco gritted his teeth and refused to dwell on such an unpleasant thought. It was unbecoming for a twenty-four year old wizard to be jealous of a Muggle. For whatever reason. He had to hand it to the woman, though: she must be a strong person to let him stay at her flat with Harry, whom she obviously cared for a great deal, knowing about his and Harry's intimate relationship in the past.

What had she said? "I hate to get in the middle of things"? Draco remembered how odd he'd felt under her scrutiny. He shuddered inwardly, then pushed the thought aside. Maybe she knew more than he did, and maybe she didn't. It wasn't important, because she wasn't here with Harry – _he _was.

_"It's a surprise." _

Draco smiled. He was sure Harry had taken him here because he thought the gardens would be interesting for Draco – and they were. They could not compete with Prague, of course. Heck, even Hogwarts had more impressive greenhouses. And the whole Botanical Garden would fit easily into a corner of the Malfoy estate. But it was quite an accomplishment for Muggles to accumulate such a variety of plants and keep them alive without the help of magic. It was obvious that loving and knowledgeable hands were at work here. He had told Harry so and Harry's face had lit up with pleasure and his smile had caused Draco's insides to do several double flips…

_London!_ he reminded himself and bent his musings back to where they'd been before he'd stepped behind Harry and become distracted. He sat down on one of the benches that lined the balustrade and glanced at Harry, who still stood there, hands shoved into his pockets, apparently lost in thought. _Great! _Here they were. Together. In the middle of a cheerful day. In a lovely spot. Brooding. _Just great! _Draco wished he had a clue what was going on in Harry's head. Although, what he should really concentrate on was his own head.

What had he been thinking of? – Right: memory blocks and stress. – What could have brought on this flashback and, not to forget, Harry's strange unconsciousness or whatever it had been? He stared at the water, glittering in the sun. Tiny waves were lapping at the narrow strip of sand that surrounded the lake. From time to time, movements beneath the surface caused circles to ripple across the water. A distant part of his mind noted that he was getting a little drowsy while another part seemed agitated by something. Odd. He blinked slowly. Sleepiness was creeping closer… sleepiness… sleep… sleeping… Sleep?

The voice in the back of his mind was clamouring for attention now, and suddenly he sat bolt upright. Of course! He should have thought of it right away – yesterday night, as a matter of fact: Why had Harry taken that soporific?

"Why couldn't you sleep yesterday?" he blurted out.

"Huh?"

Harry turned his head and looked at him with an expression that clearly said his thoughts had been far away.

"You made yourself a cup of tea last night, remember?"

"Of course. What about it?"

"Did you know it was a sleep aid?"

"Yes. Why?"

"Why couldn't you sleep?"

To his bewilderment, Harry quickly averted his eyes, an embarrassed look flitting across his face. He turned around and sat down sideways on a bench opposite Draco, facing away from him, flexing and stretching the fingers of his folded hands. He remained silent for so long that Draco was seriously wondering what in Merlin's name was going on in the man's head. He was just about to give in to his impatience and ask when Harry cleared his throat.

"I was thinking about what I'd do if I were to move back to England." – Well, that was certainly unexpected. He couldn't see what was so embarrassing about it, though. – "So I thought… Well, it was more an idea, really…"

Harry raised his hand to run it through his hair and Draco caught himself wishing he could snatch it to prevent the nervous gesture – or to pull it to his face and press his cheek into it. He blinked. What was his world coming to? Next thing, he'd be wanting to sit in Harry's lap! He wondered how Harry would react if he actually did something so silly and pressed his lips together to stifle the snicker that was welling up inside him at the thought.

"Actually, it was something I thought of for a long time after your father's trial."

Draco's stomach lurched a little at the unexpected mention of Lucius, but it wasn't as bad as earlier this morning. He raised an eyebrow at Harry, waiting for him to continue.

"I had… expected to see you at the Ministry," Harry said quietly. "Did they not call you as a witness?" He had turned his head and was looking at Draco, one foot on the bench, left elbow propped up on his knee, his chin in his palm – all relaxed inquisitiveness.

Draco shook his head. "I was already in Prague when the open conflict started," he replied, surprised that he actually felt quite calm, "and before that, I was bonded to you, so the Wizengamot assumed that nobody on Father's side would have told me anything anyway – or so our solicitor said. He advised me to stay out of the country. He thought it would be better if I didn't draw attention to myself."

_Too bad that that didn't keep the paper from dragging me – us – through the mud,_ he thought grimly. Thanks to Pansy and her resourceful owl, he'd got his hands on the occasional _Prophet_ while in Prague and was quite familiar with some of the tripe that rag had spread about him and Harry. Not that he necessarily wanted Harry to know this… Butthey'd been talking about something else, anyway.

"So what was the brilliant idea that kept you awake last night? A plot to keep Father in Azkaban by putting him in charge of it?"

_Not a bad idea, come to think of it!_

For a split second, Harry gave him a very gratifying incredulous stare, which quickly morphed into a mischievous expression. "He'd probably come up with all kinds of innovative methods to keep the prisoners, erm, occupied."

"Occupied? I dare say they'd be gainfully employed – gainfully for Father, of course."

They both sniggered, and all of a sudden Draco felt as if something in his heart had shifted. He had no idea what it was, but the change left him feeling peaceful. And when he thought about it, much later, he realised that this was the moment when an old wound finally closed and began to heal.

"Anyway," Harry continued, "I had an idea that there should be a place for Muggle-born children where they can learn about the wizarding world before they go to Hogwarts. You tried to explain it to me, back in school, remember? Why Muggle children were such a problem? But I always thought you were… I don't know… exaggerating, I guess. Or that it was just some argument Voldemort used to manipulate people. But I heard it in so many trials – it seems that many of the pure-blood families were still afraid of Muggle-borns. I still don't understand why, but maybe a prep-school would show the… conservatives that our side makes an effort to bridge the gap."

Draco was listening with a growing sense of unreality, all but gawking at Harry.

"I beg your pardon, but did you basically just say that… Father's side had a point?" he finally interrupted, not even trying to keep the incredulity out of his voice.

Harry chuckled. "I guess I did. In a way. Just like you basically said yesterday that our side had a point, remember?" He turned serious again and looked at Draco. "So where does that leave us?"

Draco couldn't decide whether there was more emphasis on the word "leave" or "us".

He shrugged.

"Somewhere in the middle, I suppose."

"Exactly. Gryffindor and Slytherin working together, remember?"

"Of course I remember. How could I ever forget Zabini and Weasley becoming study buddies? Or Granger and Pansy conspiring to get us to dance at that ball." Draco made a face. "Very disturbing. Traumatised me for life."

Harry grinned. "No it didn't. You were just too stubborn to admit that I was right when I said it was possible."

"Maybe I was." Draco sighed. "Different priorities, remember? Inter-house cooperation wasn't on my list. I was too busy trying to figure out what was in my family's best interest instead of concentrating on what was best for me." _Or us,_ he thought. He stood up to put his hands on the balustrade and look out across the lake.

"And busy staying on top of your studies. And preparing for N.E.W.T.s. And dealing with your housemates. And constantly watching your back – and mine. And I'm probably forgetting any number of things here," Harry commented dryly. "You had a lot to deal with. Don't beat yourself up over the past."

The past…

Draco let out a deep breath. At Harry's last remark, something that had been lurking at the back of his mind since Friday night suddenly jumped forward.

"For what it's worth, Harry," he heard himself say, "I'm sorry you had to… go without me. I wasn't… I couldn't make up my mind to… stand up to Father, I guess." _You were the only friend I had who never asked for anything in return. Or reminded me that I owed him. And I let you down._ "I should have been a… better friend." _Less of a coward._

For a while there were only the little noises of the lake, the rustling of the rushes, frogs croaking, birds chirping, a fish jumping after an insect.

"Hindsight is always easier than foresight," Harry finally said. "We had no choice. Neither one of us. Or if we had, we didn't see it. The question is, what would you do in that sort of situation _now."_

His voice was very soft. And although Draco felt quite distracted by the fact that it was also very close behind him, he couldn't help noticing the irony in all this; because if it were up to him, he'd be in "that sort of situation" soon enough. Of course there was no knowing what would happen when he turned around, but he knew what he _wanted_ to happen. _Pick up the pieces and go home,_ he thought, then wondered for a split second where that line had come from. Although it really didn't matter, because if this was life giving him a second chance, he would have to make up his mind. And this time there could be – would be – no turning back.

_If I could change the past, I would…_

Was he ready to choose? Today? Right this minute? Jump off the cliff or walk along the coastline, so to speak? If one didn't know what awaited at the foot of the cliff, did the route matter? Neither was easy. One of them, however, would be fast.

_I wish I could be far away by then…_

He straightened up and leaned against the pillar. Merlin, it was hot all of a sudden! He could feel sweat trickling down his scalp. Slipping both hands into his hair, he lifted it off his shoulders to let the slight breeze reach his neck.

"Getting warm?"

_Oh yes, definitely!_ – No wonder, considering the kind of images that were currently floating around in his head and what they were doing to him!

He nodded.

"Why didn't you tie it back?"

"I didn't expect it to get so hot."

_No kidding!_

"I think I have a rubber band somewhere…"

Draco glanced over his shoulder to see Harry fish around in his wallet, then hold up a thin ribbon.

"Do you always bring hairstyling implements when you go places?"

Harry laughed and Draco had to look away again.

"Most of the time. Comes from living with a chaotic musician, I s'pose."

"Nobody can possibly be as chaotic as you," Draco said mechanically, too preoccupied to put even a playful bite into it.

"I'm not chaotic. I'm just messy. Or used to be."

Harry's voice was even closer now, and Draco crossed his arms, trying to maintain a nonchalant posture despite the mad beating of his heart.

"I didn't bring a brush, though."

Close, so close…Draco squeezed his eyes shut and swallowed hard. It was a miracle that he was still standing – thanks only to the pillar, no doubt.

"D'you… Here, let me…"

Harry lightly touched Draco's hair, and speaking became impossible. All Draco could do was nod and try to brace himself, but even knowing what Harry was about to do couldn't prepare him for the emotions that slammed into him when he felt Harry's hands slowly comb through his hair: heat and desire and need and… resentment towards chaotic musicians and anybody else Harry might have done this to in the past, which was absolutely ridiculous, of course, because Draco had probably done more things to a greater number of people than Harry had, but still…

He closed his eyes as he felt Harry's fingers slide along the side of his neck, one ever so lightly touching that particular spot behind his ear. It might have rested there for the briefest moment before rejoining the others, and Draco's heart was doing its best to jump out of his ears. This was agonising and infuriating and felt absolutely wonderful, and part of him loved the suspense while another part wanted to bark at Harry to quit teasing him already and put his mouth where his fingertips had just been.

Maybe he could help things along… lean back into the touch… just a little…

"Better?"

Harry was done gathering his hair and tied it at the nape of his neck.

_Damn!_

Draco forced his voice to cooperate. "Yes. Thank you." And thank God he'd had the common sense to buy loose fitting jeans! He wondered briefly how Harry could stand wearing such arse-hugging trousers. Not that there was anything wrong with his arse…

"I like your hair long," Harry said quietly and Draco felt a shiver wander down his spine, "it suits you."

"I was thinking of cutting it again. People keep telling me I look like Father," Draco replied a little unsteadily.

"Hmm… My ex-father-in-law…" Harry chuckled. "Good-looking man. Too bad his character is somewhat, erm-"

"Ugly," Draco completed the sentence wryly. "You can say it, it's the truth."

"Actually, I was more thinking along the lines of 'misguided'. And you're not your father, Draco."

Harry hadn't moved, was still standing right behind him, and suddenly Draco was tired of waiting and hesitating and dancing around each other. He hadn't time for this. They'd go to London tomorrow and God only knew what would happen then.

Stepping off the cliff it was!

* * *

**Footnotes:**

"Pick up the pieces and go home" is a line from one of my favorite songs: "Gold Dust Woman" by Fleetwood Mac from their album "Rumours" (1977).

The Forest Theatre ("Waldbühne") is part of the Olympic District that was built by Hitler for the 1936 summer Olympics in Berlin. This grand amphi-theater seats up to 22,000 spectators and is used for a variety of open air events during the summer months. It has become a tradition for the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra to hold a special concert every season, featuring a specific composer or music from a particular country (e.g. "Russian Night"). In 2004, they presented works by Tchaikovsky on June 27 – which doesn't quite fit our guys' schedule, but I took the liberty of using it anyway.


	18. Picking Up, Part 1

**Thanks** for your feedbackdreamerdoll and Feilian! I appreciate it all the more because I posted this chapter right on top of the previous one, but you took the time to comment on both. Thank you!

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_**Chapter 15: Picking Up**_

Draco slowly turned around and assumed the most casual pose he could muster while keeping his back firmly against the pillar for still-needed support.

"Why did you leave this morning?"

He knew he was taking a chance with this question. After all, he couldn't be absolutely certain that Harry had been in his bed all night. But nothing ventured, nothing gained.

The blush that immediately flashed across Harry's face answered at least part of the question – he must have left in the morning – and Draco allowed himself to enjoy seeing Harry squirm for a second. Watching Harry avert his eyes, swallow nervously, and bury his hands in his pockets gave Draco a moment of distinct satisfaction. He had finally succeeded in rattling Harry's composure! But rattled or not, the man still hadn't moved, and Draco decided to take that as his final clue.

The other part of the answer would have to wait until later, because he had to do something this instance or he would never find the courage to do it. He pushed himself off the pillar.

_Nothing ventured, nothing gained!_

"You could have stayed," he said quietly, and for once, his inner Gryffindor was right where he needed him as he closed the distance between them and lightly brushed his lips against the corner of Harry's mouth, acutely aware that their last kiss had been like this. It was an offer, maybe a question: _This is where we left off. Where do we go from here?_

For a split second, he felt a sense of dread when Harry just stood there, but then Harry put his arms around his waist and pressed his face into Draco's neck, and it was all the answer Draco needed.

**oOoOoOoOoOo **

Neither of them could later say how long they stood with their arms around each other like that. Silent. Motionless. Simply breathing together. It seemed like a long time before Harry lifted his head from Draco's shoulder, his cheek brushing against Draco's. Draco opened his eyes at the touch and they looked at each other.

_It's true, he looks a lot like Lucius, _Harry thought. One had to know Draco's mother to recognise her in Draco's rounder chin, softer jawline, and-

"You have your mother's eyes," he said, a little surprised that he'd never noticed it before, then winced inwardly. This was without doubt the soppiest thing he'd ever said to anybody! But it was true. And it made Draco's face light up in one of those unguarded, heartfelt smiles that always took his breath away. So it was a good thing, all in all… And then Draco's hand came up to his face and soft fingers were tracing his eyebrow, temple, cheekbone, moving to the back of his neck…

Harry closed his eyes, trying to hold on to at least one of the thoughts that were racing through his brain long enough to make sense of it, but then even his inner Hermione couldn't keep him from cupping Draco's face in his hands… or from touching his forehead to Draco's… or rubbing noses with him… closing his eyes… feeling Draco's breath on his cheek… his lips… And then Draco's mouth opened under his and he could not suppress a groan when in a heartbeat it was all back: the gut-wrenching desire. The mad hammering of his heart. The tightness in his throat. The dizzying need to touch and to kiss and to claim as his. He felt his body come to life almost violently and was barely aware what he was doing when he pulled Draco closer, close enough to let him feel how much he wanted this. Wanted _him._ There was an answering moan from Draco, who was pressing against him just as desperately, and Harry had no idea how his hands had ended up under Draco's shirt all of a sudden, but Draco was gasping and shuddering under his touch and sucked on his tongue in response and, God, it felt good!

**- TBC -**

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**P.S.: **Feilian has sent me electronic pictures of the Botanical Garden in Berlin - among others two of the lake and the gazebo. I am so excited! Unfortunately, I can't post them anywhere for you to look at, but I can e-mail them to you if you want me to. Just send me a note.

Thank you, Feili!


	19. Picking Up, Part 2

**A/N: **Thank you for your continued enthusiasm, Beatrisu, brokenwindowpane, dreamerdoll, Feilian, Fourth Rose, rachel, Keither Serenity, slytheringrl17, and TwistedCheshy. It makes me happy that you like my story!

**Special thanks **go to my dear beta, Actias luna, as well as to BadKatPat and KitScott, who all patiently read and responded to my groans, gripes, and pleas for moral support on the numerous occasions when I got stuck with this chapter. I appreciate you more than I can say!

And now on to the next part of "Picking Up". **Warning: **It's probably not quite what you expected – but I let you be the judge of that. ;-) Let me know what you think.

Hope you enjoy!

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**_Chapter 15: Picking Up – Part 2_ **

_Merlin, it's been too long, _Draco thought, dazed. Had they kissed like this when they were seventeen? He couldn't remember. He barely remembered the last time he'd kissed anybody. It had been pleasurable, but nothing compared to this. This was- God, how had he survived so long without it?

He felt his mind reeling, trying to grasp that this was really happening; that those were Harry's hands on his skin and Harry's lips on his neck; that this could be so familiar and yet so different. His own hands were exploring a more substantial frame – thank God they were both less scrawny than they'd been as teenagers! – and Harry's touches were gentler than they used to be, but they caused shockwaves wherever they came in contact with Draco's skin, and it felt incredible. If only they didn't stay chastely above his waistline!

Draco tried not to squirm with impatience. He kept telling himself that Harry couldn't possibly be self-conscious, that he simply wasn't as touch-deprived as Draco, but there was only so much pleasure to be had from anticipation, and he groaned in frustration. Unluckily, this spot was anything but private… and this was only their first kiss… and maybe Harry wasn't quite ready to deal with a sex-starved Slytherin… So maybe he shouldn't take the next step… not here and now… On the other hand, Harry was shielding him from view… and whoever looked at them across the lake wouldn't see anything but Draco's back… and judging from the way Harry was rubbing against him, he needed it just as much as Draco… No, he couldn't resist!

He made the touch light, tentative, an almost accidental brush with the back of his hand – and felt Harry freeze instantly. _Shit! _Maybe that had been too soon? But Harry didn't pull back. He just stood very still, his mouth on Draco's, both hands under his shirt, leaving Draco breathless and dizzy with need. God, he wanted so much to give Harry a good hard squeeze, grab his hand and push it down, but maybe it would be better to…

_Yes! _This time, Harry melted into his touch with a little noise in the back of his throat that shot straight to Draco's groin. He touched Harry more confidently, every fibre in his body tingling, and found himself silently begging Harry to please, please do the same to him… reach lower… just a handspan… _Please don't stop!... _almost… just a little more… _Yes! Right there!_ He was dimly aware that he was covering Harry's hand with his own, pressing it against his erection, while his other hand – _Fuck yes! – _found Harry just as aroused as he was, and if they kept going – _Just like that! _–, he'd probably come in his trousers, but who cared – and what the fuck was Harry doing?

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

Harry hated breaking their kiss, but he felt increasingly uncomfortable. His jeans were too tight, there was too much fabric everywhere, he was too hot, and even though this was a fairly secluded spot, they were still in public. Draco might not care even if half the population of Berlin paraded by, but Harry certainly did. Besides, he didn't want it to happen like this, as a hectic, mindless act of frotting. In public!

He withdrew a little, pulled his hands out from underneath Draco's shirt and placed them on his hips, hoping to break the momentum without making Draco feel rejected... _Good! _It seemed to work. Draco's movements became less frantic, his hands less urgent, his kisses softer… Harry took a deep breath and relaxed – until he realised _why _exactly his discomfort had decreased.

"Stop!" he gasped and laced his fingers through Draco's to keep him from going any further, but it was a half-hearted attempt at best, because what he was doing felt too good. He couldn't recall the last time he'd been so turned on, and his inner voice shouted at him to stop being such a prude, to follow Draco's example, just pull the damn zip and-

_No, not like this!_

"Draco, wait-"

But either Draco chose to ignore him or he was too far gone, because his mouth was back on Harry's, which made talking impossible, and what his hand was doing further down was diminishing Harry's cognitive functions at an alarming rate. Harry felt panic rise inside him; he would normally look forward to a screaming orgasm – _just not in public!_ Unfortunately, he was getting closer to exactly that – or at least it felt like it; and he couldn't think of a way to stop Draco, short of pushing him away, but he didn't want to do that; and suddenly all he could think of was how much more comfortable they would be at home and how much safer he would feel and… and…_ And what the-_

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

…_the fuck?_

Draco blinked. As unexpected as it had occurred, the sensation of being pressed very hard from all directions ceased. He could breathe again, his ears popped, and the blackness around him was replaced by a sunlit room. It took him a moment to catch up with his surroundings and identify his whereabouts as-

"Thank God!" Harry said with feeling and gave Draco a little smile before his eyes fluttered shut and he pulled Draco close again.

"Wh-?" was all Draco could saybefore Harry's hands found their way back under his shirt and the question of why in all hells Harry had Apparated them into the _hall _of his flat instead of his _bedroom_ landed on the List of Things to Ask Later. Right now, it was really more important to get rid of all those clothes separating them. He briefly wondered if he wasn't rushing things as he pushed the shirt off Harry's shoulders and tugged his tee-shirt from his jeans, but he couldn't help it. He'd been hard for what seemed like hours, and a rather large part of his brain was pointing out – quite reasonably, actually – that they would both feel more comfortable without their trousers. Besides, Harry seemed just as eager to shed his clothes as Draco was to get him out of them.

"Good grief, Draco, how long's it been since you got any?" Harry chuckled and brushed his lips across Draco's cheek.

Draco scoffed. The git was entirely too smug for a bloke who, if it were up to him, was about five minutes from getting laid – if they went that far, that was. Maybe they shouldn't. And maybe the question wasn't really relevant because he would probably explode the instance Harry put a hand down his pants.

"You don't want to know," he said tightly, pushing the shirt up until Harry lifted his arms to let him pull it over his head. "Care to tell me why we're doing this in the hall when we have a perfectly comfortable bed right over there?"

"Hmm, maybe I wanted to give us some options," came the reply from the side of his neck and rational thinking slipped away when warm breath was followed by soft lips, and why that kind of touch always shot straight to his groin would forever remain a mystery to him. Not that it mattered. Right now, nothing mattered but Harry's hands unbuttoning his shirt and spreading it open; Harry's chest, warm and solid, against his own bare skin; Harry's mouth covering his; and Harry's fingers dipping underneath the waistband of his jeans for agonising moments before finally unfastening them.

He felt Harry smile against his lips at his sigh of relief, and then Harry withdrew a little to look at him. "Better?" he asked.

"Getting there." Draco used the break to toe off his trainers. "How about you?" he murmured close to Harry's ear and grinned when Harry responded by reaching between them and hastily unbuttoning his own jeans. "Now… tell me about those options." He took Harry in his arms again and slipped his hands inside the back of Harry's trousers.

"Well," Harry said, "I'm rather hungry…" His hands imitated Draco's gesture with the result that Draco's jeans slid off his hips. Draco quickly stepped out of them before they could end up in an undignified heap around his ankles. "So we could have lunch," Harry continued, trailing his fingertips up Draco's back. Before Draco could make an appropriately snide comment about the bottomless pits that were Gryffindor stomachs, Harry's hands started wandering down the inside of his arms, caressing the soft skin there, and this time Draco could practically _feel _part of his brain shut down.

"Or we could continue this-" Harry's mouth returned to Draco's for a light kiss, "on the couch."

The couch! _Yes! _The bed would be better, of course, but he could live with the couch. Draco felt a wave of excitement ripple through his body at the thought of being inside another person again – or having someone inside him. Either would be good. As a matter of fact, _anything _that involved being naked with Harry would be good! He detached himself from Harry long enough to pluck the spectacles off his nose and ask, "Having lunch or snogging on the couch. Any other suggestions?"

But Harry didn't seem to be paying attention right now. He had pulled the rubber band from Draco's plait and was carding both hands through his hair again. Goosebumps were marching up and down Draco's arms and he swallowed, unable to really concentrate on the feel of Harry's skin under his fingertips. God, how could such a simple touch feel so good?

"I wanted to do this Sunday, at the aquarium," Harry said very quietly.

"Do what?" Draco pushed his head backwards into Harry's hands, wishing he could purr.

"Touch your hair like this."

One hand disappeared from his hair and began a slow journey down his neck and chest.

"Too bad you didn't," Draco heard himself almost groan as Harry's fingers wandered around his side, reached the small of his back and sneaked below the waistband of his boxers. "I would have snogged you blind right there and we wouldn't have to go to London tomorrow."

Apparently he wasn't the only one who didn't understand the statement, because the hands on his body went still.

"You wanted to kiss me?" Harry asked, and Draco grinned. Trust Harry to home in on the easiest part! Then he nodded and moved his head insistently because Harry wasn't doing _anything, _which was decidedly too little.

"Why didn't you, yesterday, on the couch?" Harry's hands and lips resumed their exploration of Draco's back and neck. _About time! _

"Same reason you sneaked out of my bed this morning?"

Harry's mouth left his throat as he lifted his head to look at Draco with a little smirk. "A Slytherin afraid of Gryffindor snarks?"

No immediate answer came to Draco's mind, which wasn't surprising because Harry's fingertips were now following the curve of his bottom, so lightly that he could barely feel them. It was very distracting. Besides, he wasn't interested in that particular conversation right now.

"I'm still waiting for the option involving the bed," he reminded Harry, nudging his cheeck with his nose, inhaling deeply. "You smell different," he observed and wondered for a split second how he could make such a moronic remark in a moment like this, then their mouths met again and rational thinking disappeared once more.

"Neveya," was the cryptic reply, rather muffled because it had to be maneouvered around Draco's tongue, before Harry turned his head enough to break their kiss. "Which reminds me…" He moved his hands up Draco's sides. "Next option…"

"I'm not interested in any option that doesn't let us get naked," Draco declared, and then his knees almost gave out because Harry's thumbs slowly circled his nipples.

"That-" Harry murmured, "is not an option." He lightly rubbed his cheek against Draco's. "That's _mandatory," _he whispered, and at that, Draco's impatience simply vanished. Harry's voice held the promise of relief, and when he drew him close and pressed his erection into Draco's groin, Draco couldn't hold back the needy little whimper that had been lurking at the back of his throat for so long. Oddly enough, it didn't make him feel pathetic at all, probably because Harry made the same kind of noise and kissed him again.

"Next option?" Draco prompted breathlessly, several heated kisses later. They hadn't made much progress of any kind in any direction. After Harry had steered them a few steps sideways to let Draco drop his specs onto the side-table next to the front door, they had ended up against the nearest wall. Not that there was anything wrong with having his back to the wall, especially not with Harry grinding into him like this…

"We could take a shower."

"A _shower_?" Whatever he'd expected, a shower had definitely _not_ been part of the picture – at least not until later.

"Why not? I'm feeling sweaty and sticky, and it would be nice to rinse off first."

_First…_

There was that something in Harry's voice again that made Draco feel pathetically weak in the knees – which became especially noticeable when Harry peeled him off the wall and they were moving again. Maybe taking a shower wasn't such a bad idea. The thought of rubbing each other down with that slippery stuff Muggles used for soap had definite appeal. On the other hand-

"What's wrong with the couch? Or the bed, for that matter?"

"Patience!" The soft hissing sound, breathed into his ear, followed by a nibble to his earlobe, made Draco swallow to hold back another whimper. Merlin, where had the man learned to talk and be in charge like that? And how was it possible to become even harder without being touched more intimately?

_Screw it! _

What difference did it make?

"Shower," he agreed.

_Anything, as long as we can get naked!_

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

_Oh yes, _Draco thought muzzily, a good while later, resting against Harry's chest, feeling rather exhausted but wonderfully sated, _lathering a bloke definitely has its appeal!_

"Fuck, Draco," Harry sighed, his hands rubbing Draco's bottom in a very relaxing way, "I wouldn't want that stuff inside me, but it makes for a hell of a handjob!"

Draco considered voicing his agreement but couldn't quite muster the necessary energy, so he simply nodded into Harry's neck and waved a hand in the general direction of the shower.

"Water," he croaked. It took a bit of an effort to straighten up enough to let Harry move. Two orgasms could definitely take it out of a bloke! His legs were still trembling, his arms felt like lead, and his fingers were all wrinkled and beginning to feel numb. But what a way to spend the day!

"Are we done with the bodywash?" Harry took the showerhead off the hook and turned the tap. "Can we proceed to shampoo?"

"Yes, my body feels thoroughly… cleansed, thank you very much."

Harry chuckled and raised the shower. Draco closed his eyes and enjoyed the sensation of warm water running over his shoulders and back. It felt almost as good as Harry's attention.

"Imagine what our dormmates would've said if they'd walked in on us in the shower. Like that bloke in Slytherin who always made such a fuss. What was his name?"

"Edgars. Simon Edgars. He would have had a heart attack." Draco shook his head. "I wonder what happened to him after school."

Harry hung the shower back up and stepped under it, pulling Draco towards him.

"I wonder what happened to a lot of people," he said quietly while he upended a bottle over Draco's head, squeezing a generous amount of shampoo onto his hair. "That's what I was thinking about, yesterday, when I had that flashback…"

Draco felt goosebumps prickle down his neck, and he wasn't sure they were only from the creepy sensation the gooey substance caused when it spread on his head and began to slip down his shuddered.

"…about what happened to Luna and Neville and all the others in our class."

"I thought you were thinking about a prep-school for Muggle-borns."

"I was." Harry sprinkled a handful of water onto the shampoo and began to massage it into his hair. Draco leaned into the touch, feeling warm and relaxed. "I was wondering if some of them would like to help out as instructors."

"Lovegood and Longbottom as teachers?" Trust Harry to come up with a ludicrous idea like that!

"Why not? The children would have a blast with them."

"Learning what exactly? The quickest way to melt a cauldron? Or how to catch a Blibbering Humdinger?" Draco snorted derisively. "That oaf Hagrid would make a better teacher than those jokers."

He felt Harry stiffen and realised what he had just said. "Sorry," he said quickly, kicking himself mentally. "No offence." _Fuck!_

"It's all right," Harry said. He sounded slightly vexed, but he continued washing Draco's hair and Draco relaxed again. "He wasn't a particularly good teacher."

For the umpteenth time since they'd met Saturday, Draco had to keep his jaw from dropping.

"I thought the two of you were such close friends."

"We were, but that doesn't mean I think he was the right person for the job. I mean, who in their right mind would expose children to creatures like Blast-Ended Skrewts or hippogriffs?"

"Who indeed?" Draco mumbled. Damn hippogriffs! He scowled at the memory, then startled when he felt Harry touch the four long parallel scars on his forearm. They had faded over the years, but they were still slightly raised and the tissue underneath would always remain numb.

"Why did you make that stupid remark in class about Buckbeak? What was it you called him? A dumb ugly beast?"

"A great ugly brute," Draco corrected mechanically, watching Harry's fingers trail over his skin, surprised when he received signals of renewed interest from his body in spite of the rather unerotic topic of conversation – not forgetting two recent orgasms.

"Why did you do that? Hagrid had warned us not to insult them."

Draco closed his eyes, wishing for a split second there'd be a way around or, even better, out of this conversation, but things being what they were…

_If I could change the past, I would._

Here was a chance to do exactly that – in a manner of speaking.

He took a deep breath.

"Father put me up to it in a way…" he said slowly.

"He wanted you to be attacked by a hippogriff?" Harry blurted out immediately, and for once he sounded like the old Harry from school: all shock and righteous indignation. Draco smiled to himself and shook his head.

"No, that was my glorious idea. When Father heard that Hagrid was teaching classes, he asked me to report any mistakes, inappropriate teaching methods, that sort of thing. At the time, it seemed a good idea to… help matters along, so to speak."

"By provoking a hippogriff? You're mental!" Harry said with conviction, shaking his head, then pulled him under the jet of water and began to rinse his hair rather roughly. "Did you know that your father was trying to get Dumbledore sacked so he could take over Hogwarts?"

Draco scoffed. "Use your brain, Harry! You saw how he treated me at seventeen. What makes you think he told me more when I was fourteen?" He raised his hands to rub his face. "He only told me enough to… make me believe he wanted the best for the school and the students."

"So you went and got your arm sliced by a raging hippogriff."

Harry was done rinsing Draco's hair and reached for the shampoo again.

"It seemed the quickest way to cause Hagrid the most trouble."

"You could have been killed."

"And you would have cried buckets over my dead body, I know." Draco plucked the bottle out of Harry's hand. "I think we have firmly established that it wasn't my brightest moment. No need to rub it in any further. Speaking of rubbing…" He gestured at Harry's head. "Get wet."

Harry gave him an odd look but obediently stuck his head under the shower. Draco took advantage of the fact that Harry's eyes were closed to look him over unobserved. Yes, he had fleshed out nicely, just enough to be called lean instead of skinny. Apart from a light dusting of hair across his chest, his skin was as smooth as Draco remembered. He could still feel it under his fingertips, surprisingly soft for a man's, and he wanted to reach out and touch him again, run his hands down his back, over the firm muscles of his arse...

This time, his body's reaction was a bit more insistent. Fortunately, Harry chose this moment to step away from the water and Draco quickly slathered shampoo onto his head. He wouldn't mind another go, but not in the shower.

"Hey! No need to rip off my scalp!" Harry protested. "It wasn't all _my _fault that we couldn't stand each other!" He stabbed a finger at Draco, aiming in the general direction of his ribs.

"Is that so?" Draco deflected his hand easily. "Well, you seemed to like me well enough eventually."

"All right, I admit it. I thought you were cute-" Harry opened one eye. "The prettiest ferret I'd ever seen."

Was that a leer on Harry's face? Draco arched an eyebrow at him. And then his heart skipped a beat because his mind caught on to what they were doing: that they were talking about some of the darkest moments of their school years, and not only were they not arguing, they were actually _teasing _each other – well, Harry was teasing, at any rate…

"As a matter of fact, being a ferret was quite interesting." He shrugged, feigning indifference. "The unpleasant part of the experience was being bounced around by a one-eyed, peg-legged lunatic."

For a moment, the clatter of water against tiles was the only sound.

"It must have hurt," said Harry quietly, his face suddenly serious.

Draco returned his look evenly.

"I would have hurt you more," he said and slid his hands across Harry's scalp one more time. "You're done. Rinse!"

Harry looked at him with an inscrutable expression on his face. "Thank you," he said softly before he closed his eyes and stepped back under the stream of hot water, leaving Draco to wonder what exactly he was being thanked for.

* * *

**Footnote: **When Harry cryptically replies "Neveya", he is referring to a very popular German line of bodycare and shaving products that are also available in the U.S. (not sure about the rest of the world).


	20. Picking Up, Part 3

**A/N: **Many thanks for your reviews, dreamerdoll, HistoryGirl, Lady Katie, Pik Dame, rc, Sezmarelda, and slytheringrl17. I appreciate you!

As always, I am indebted to Actias luna for her great beta work and to BadKatPat and KitScott for being my test readers.

My sincerest apologies for taking so long to update! Unfortunately, I am continuing to struggle with health issues, and although I'm doing my best to work on the rest of this story as much as I can, things don't always progress as swiftly as they used to. So please forgive me for keeping you waiting. I hope you'll bear with me till the very end - which is just one more chapter and an epilogue away (although that last chapter might end up having several parts, too.)

* * *

**_Chapter 15: Picking Up – Part 3_ **

The howling of Star's industrial-strength hair-dryer had followed him into the kitchen, where he was currently looking at the inside of a cupboard with only the vaguest idea why he had opened it.

_Junge Erbsen. Babykarotten. Grüne Bohnen. _

Why was he staring at an assortment of canned vegetables?

Harry closed his eyes and squeezed the bridge of his nose to clear his mind, but it took a pitiful gurgle from his stomach to remind him that he had come in here to prepare lunch while Draco was drying his hair.

_Lunch._

He slammed the cupboard shut and opened the refrigerator.

_Right._

Now what were they going to eat? …

_"I wish I could use a bloody Drying Charm."_

_Draco scowling at his appearance in the mirror as he tried to pull a comb through his hair, which was sticking up in all directions after towelling. _

_Harry's own reflection appearing behind Draco's, giving him a puzzled look_

_"Why can't you?"_

_"Granger's law." A shrug and a frown. "Don't forget, Malfoy: no use of magic in the Muggle world unless it is an emergency!" Harry smiled. The voice didn't match, but Draco's face was an almost spitting image of Hermione's when she was in lecture mode. "The alliteration must have been an accident, though. That woman has no sense of humour. Never had, never will."_

_"I don't remember ever meeting a student whose mind was so hopelessly mundane…"_

_"Beg pardon?"_

_"Huh?" _

_"What are you talking about?"_

_Harry blinked. "Did I say something?"_

_Mirror-Draco shot him an odd look._

_"Oh, that…" He retrieved Star's hair-dryer from the top of her shelf. "Trelawney said that to Hermione once. That she had a hopelessly mundane mind." _

_Draco was grinning at him when he turned back around. "That's better than being called an insufferable know-it-all."_

_Harry inserted the plug._

_"Marginally," he said before he pushed the dryer into Draco's hand and flipped the switch, drowning out the conversation before it could begin…_

This time, a stab of nausea accompanied the growling of his stomach. The unpleasant sensation brought him back into a present in which he was staring into the refrigerator – and needed to squeeze the bridge of his nose again because he still couldn't concentrate on what they were going to eat. The only thing on his mind seemed to be memories of him and Draco in the shower, kissing, tongues sliding against one another's, hands roaming, stroking, gripping, the sound of water, of bodies slipping, the smell of steam and soap and sex…

_Stop it!_

How would it be to face Draco after their… shower? Would things be different? Surely they couldn't be the same, could they? What were they going to talk about now? Where was this headed except into the bedroom? Would they still go to London together? And would Draco come back with him afterwards? And then what? What was this? A one-week stand? No. Strike that. They didn't even have a whole week. What did Draco want from him? And suddenly he felt as if someone had emptied the proverbial bucket of icewater over his head: What if all this was just a ruse, cooked up by a devious Slytherin mind to…

"It's nice of you to cool the kitchen but I'd prefer something to eat."

With a thud, the back of Harry's head hit the inside of the refrigerator.

The silence should have warned him that Draco was done drying his hair and on his way to the kitchen.

It hadn't.

"Ow!"

Rubbing his head, he turned to find Draco leaning against the door frame, barefoot, in pyjama bottoms and a t-shirt, shielding his eyes against a sunbeam that had chosen this moment to peek through the clouds and right into his face, making his hair shine like a halo.

He looked… Inexplicably, he didn't look any different than when Harry had left the bathroom. How could Draco look the same when he, Harry, felt as if they were about to turn each other's lives inside out?

_That's probably overdramatising it a bit._

There was that expression on Draco's face again, the one he liked so much: his face relaxed and alive, eyes shining, lips soft...

"Everything all right?"

Harry tried to swallow, but his throat was uncomfortably dry. He watched Draco push himself off the door frame to step into the kitchen, and his heart suddenly beat very articulately.

No, he wasn't overdramatising. Inside-out sounded pretty bloody accurate, considering what was going on in his head at the moment.

"Are we going to have lunch or what?"

A mental image floated through his mind of grabbing Draco and dragging him across the hall into his room – bedroom – since Draco was in pyjamas anyway – and he was wearing only jeans and no shirt himself-

"Harry?"

He realized he had been staring at Draco and felt like an idiot. Probably looked like one, too, standing in front of the open refrigerator like this, hanging on to its door, but then he found himself with his arms full of Draco in the middle of a kiss that knocked his specs askew, and the fridge whooshed shut behind him.

For the briefest moment he wondered when Draco had become so direct. In the past, he had preferred subtler ways of getting what he wanted… although the way he'd initiated their second round in the shower had been rather bold. Harry felt his face heat up and his jeans grow tight at the memory of Draco backing him up against the wall, touching him everywhere, slowly but without hesitation…

He sighed and smiled when Draco made a similar appreciative noise. This was so different from the urgency they'd both felt earlier. Arms slung loosely around each other, they kissed gently, lips caressing, tongues touching slowly. There was a sense of tenderness and sincerety, and one by one, the questions in his head went still. Maybe answers weren't important. Or maybe _this_ was the answer? He straightened up until their bodies were pressed together from chest to groin and he felt Draco's fingertips trail up and down his back – his _naked _back, as his little inner voice reminded him.

Naked back.

There was an idea…

He was just about to slip his hands under Draco's shirt when his stomach emitted a particularly loud grumble, followed by a hunger pang that was too strong to ignore. He let go of Draco and stuck his head back into the refrigerator, turning his back on Draco's remarks about the bottomlessness of his stomach.

"Shut up, Draco. What d'you want for lunch? We have leftover curry. And plenty of rolls."

Apparently, his stomach had ears, because it gurgled plaintively at the mention of food. Another wave of queasiness followed. _No time to reheat the curry! _He snatched a glass of yoghurt from the bottom shelf. A banana would be more sustaining, but he had a feeling eating that particular fruit in front of Draco might send a message he wasn't prepared to follow up on yet. That would have to wait. Right now, he needed something to eat. Where was the damn spoon?

He sighed with relief when the first mouthful of the creamy treat reached his aching insides. Several spoonfuls later, he almost felt like a human being again. With a contented hum, he licked the spoon clean. Vanilla yoghurt – now _that _was a food he would miss…

"Hitting the spot there, Potter?"

With a start, he opened his eyes – Why had he closed them? – and spotted Draco next to the cooker – What was he doing over there? –, grinning at him. – Why was Draco grinning at him from next to the cooker? – He blinked, then noticed that he still had the spoon in his mouth and removed it quickly. _Christ!_ It clinked to the bottom of the glass.

"Sorry," he muttered, feeling foolish.

"No problem. I thought I'd heat up the curry while you're stuffing your face with-"

Draco tilted his head, squinting at the glass in Harry's hand.

"- some as of yet unidentified white substance that needs – how do Muggles call it? Refresheration?"

He shook his head. "I'll never understand why they have to make everything so complicated."

Harry had to laugh. "Sorry," he repeated. "I just have to eat when I get hungry like that."

"It's all right."

Draco push-turned the knob as if he'd operated a Muggle gas cooker all his life. A memory flashed through Harry's mind of Draco's first visit on Saturday and how unreal it had seemed that Draco was really there, in his kitchen, leaning over Star's stew with a thoughtful expression on his face.

_Ten points from Gryffindor…_

Harry smiled and silenced the little inner voice who reminded him that things could – and would – change as of tomorrow.

"Want to try?"

"Try what?"

"This." He placed the glass on the countertop and brought the spoon back up, waggling it in Draco's direction. "Vanilla yoghurt."

He grinned at Draco's dubious expression.

"You've never had vanilla yoghurt?"

"I don't normally eat Muggle food, Potter."

Harry decided to let the remark pass and stepped in front of him.

"You'll like it. It's sweet."

He held out the spoon and watched Draco's eyes slowly flutter shut as he accepted the treat. It was one of the sexiest things he'd ever seen and he barely heard the spoon clatter to the floor. Without thinking, he slid his hands under Draco's shirt and pulled him close, their kiss heating up instantly. God, how could he ever get enough of this? Of Draco's mouth, his skin, his hands? How could the gentle swipe of Draco's tongue along the inside of his upper lip cause such a reaction? And so soon? It was almost embarrassing, all things considered, and maybe Draco was thinking along similar lines, because their kiss suddenly became rather toothy.

"Stop grinning!" Harry said – or meant to say. What came out sounded more like "Fopp mimming" and made Draco grin even wider for a moment – right before he yanked his mouth off Harry's with a strangled noise and performed a series of very strange, open-mouthed exercises.

Harry looked on in bewilderment as Draco, eyes squeezed shut, clamped both hands around his cheeks and dug his thumbs underneath his jaw. Apparently it helped, judging from the way the pained expression melted off his face.

"All right there?" Harry asked cautiously when whatever had afflicted Draco seemed to be over. "What's the matter?"

Draco muttered something unintelligible and turned abruptly back to the pot.

"Huh?"

"Cramp."

"Cramp?"

"Never had a cramp in your tongue?"

Fortunately, the ten seconds it took Harry to retrieve his spoon were enough to get his face under control.

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

"How about this one?" Harry asked, holding up a book with a fat red apple on the cover, grinning.

Not for the first time, Draco wished he'd kept his mouth shut when Harry had asked him what he wanted to do after lunch. Or told him what he really wanted to do. Instead, he had wondered aloud if maybe they ought to buy a gift for Hermione, a thank you of sorts, for all her help.

Some forty minutes later, he had found himself in front of a building with an enormous glass façade and the word H-u-g-e-n-d-u-b-e-l spelled across its second floor windows in giant letters. Draco had no idea what that meant or how to pronounce it, and Harry's "hoogendouble" didn't provide much enlightenment either. Once they'd stepped through a set of intimidating quadruple glass doors, however, it quickly became obvious that this was the Muggle equivalent of Flourish & Blotts, only much, much bigger – which didn't surprise Draco in the least. Muggles had a weakness for the ridiculously oversized.

There was a whole section of books in English, which, to Draco's relief, was not frequented by too many Muggles. The masses still made him uneasy, although he was rather proud that he no longer felt the urge to grab Harry's sleeve every time they were boarding the underground.

"_Sex for the Seasoned Woman_? She's going to hex you into next year." He reached past Harry to pick up a different volume. "Why not give her something useful? Like this."

"_Outsmarting the Female Fat Cell After Pregnancy_." Harry laughed. "That's asking for an Unforgivable! Weren't you the one who said the woman has no sense of humour?"

"I did, Mr. Sex for the Seasoned Woman. Maybe we should just get her a box of chocolates."

"You're no fun."

"All right, all right. This one then. It's perfect for her."

"_The Worry Cure_?" Harry took it from him and flipped through it before placing it back on the table, shaking his head. "At least with the first she would have fun."

Draco rolled his eyes. "If we keep this up, we'll be here for the rest of the afternoon and I'd much rather do something else."

"Like what? Get a cup of coffee?"

"Brilliant feat of imagination, Potter."

"Maybe we should just ask someone for help. – Excuse me, miss?"

The sales clerk, a pretty brunette, was short enough to have to look up at Harry – which she did, repeatedly, while she steered him towards a different display table and began to point out books.

Draco watched their exchange, amused, wondering if Harry had any clue why the girl was so enthusiastic and if she would still be sending him such telling glances if she knew how Harry had spent the morning. The thought made his pulse speed up and his stomach do cartwheels. He hastily reached for the nearest book before memories of their activities could cause more pronounced physical reactions. However, one glance inside the cover and he put it down as quickly as he had picked it up. This was definitely not the right thing to get his mind off that particular subject!

A glance in Harry's direction showed that he was still being chatted up by the little brunette – not unsuccessfully, it seemed, as he had several books piled on his arm. Judging from the attentive expression on his face, he didn't seem to mind. Draco was about to turn around and look for a more effective distraction when Harry turned his head and sent him what could be interpreted as a "Help me!" look.

He grinned and picked the book back up. This would be interesting.

"Did you find something?" Harry asked, sounding relieved when Draco stepped next to him.

"Oh yes. Something educational."

He sent his most charming smile in the girl's direction and pushed the book into Harry's hand.

Harry's eyes widened when he looked at the cover, but Draco had to hand it to the man: he really had learned how to keep a grip on himself when necessary. He didn't bat an eyelid when he turned a few pages, then snapped the book shut.

"We'll take it."

He tucked _The Gay Kama Sutra _under his arm and sent a polite "thank you" after the retreating sales clerk.

"Ready for a cup of coffee? They have good _latte_ here."

"No, thank you." Draco squeezed the bridge of his nose. "I think I'm getting a headache again."

Harry mumbled something only half-audible.

"Speak English, Potter. What's a 'toomer'?"

"Nothing. Just a quote from a film. We can watch it when we're back home, if you like."

"Fine. What are we waiting for? Let's go."

"We still need something for Hermione."

"Well, we better hurry. It's getting pretty dark out there."

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

"Didn't I tell you it was getting dark?"

"Yeah, yeah. Stop complaining. It's just a shower."

"A _shower_? This is a downpour! And you obviously failed to notice that it's thundering and lightning."

"So it's a little thunderstorm. Big deal. If you quit whinging you could take deeper breaths, then we could walk faster and make it home sooner."

"Have I mentioned that you are bonkers to live without magic?"

"Not these past five minutes. I think we better run."

"This is absurd! We would be home in an instant if we could Apparate."

"Well, we can't, so stop complaining. Besides, it's only a little further."

Draco grumbled something that Harry was sure was an ancient Malfoy curse.

"Look at the bright side, though-"

"Only you could find anything remotely bright in getting soaked."

"We get to take another shower."

"Oh wonderful. Then I'll have to use that infernal dry-blower again."

"Shut up and run!"

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

"I'm still wondering why Hermione asked you not to use magic." Harry moved as far back as possible on the bed to make room for Draco. "You wouldn't do something as stupid as whipping out your wand in public. No pun intended."

"And here I thought _you _had a sense of humour." Draco slipped under the cover next to him. "Maybe she was afraid I would hex the next Muggle who looked at me funny. Or you." He shifted around a bit. "Move over!"

"Can't. I'm already at the wall," Harry mumbled into his shoulder. "Maybe she's just overcautious."

"_Maybe?_ She booked my hotel room under Daniel Black, if you can imagine that."

"I'm not really surprised. Didn't they ask you for a passport, though?"

"What makes you think I don't have one? Oy!"

"Sorry. You do? How did you get one so quickly?"

"It's not a real one, of course, just a little book with empty pages, charmed to show Muggles what they expect to see. When I tell them my name is Daniel Black, that's what it shows. Hey, watch it!"

"Sorry! But didn't they run it through the reader at the airport?"

"They did, but naturally it didn't work. They decided there must be something wrong with the, what do they call it? Muggeltick strip?"

"Magnetic strip."

"Right. Wait, let's try this. I'll put my arm here and you put yours there."

"She really outdid herself on this one, didn't she?"

Draco nodded. "She is a talented witch, no doubt about that."

"And more of a rulebreaker than she'll ever admit, even to herself."

"She just has no sense of humour."

"Maybe she thought someone might try to track you down."

"What are you talking about?"

"Hermione. Maybe she told you not to use magic because she was worried someone could follow you here."

"Who would want to follow me and what has doing magic got to do with it?"

"There is a way to detect the use of magic. How else would the Ministry be able to find out when underage wizards do magic outside of Hogwarts?"

Draco hmm'd thoughtfully. "There are tracking spells, but as far as I know, they must be cast directly on a person or an object to work."

"How about wards? Could an area be warded to set off an alarm when magic is used within a certain radius?"

"Probably." Draco yawned. "I doubt such wards exist for a whole city. But even if they did, there is no Wizarding community here, so there is no need to check for magic."

"Are you sure no wizards have ever lived here? Maybe they're old wards."

"Even if there were old wards on this place, the question remains: Who would be watching?"

"I don't know, but Hermione obviously thought somebody might."

"Merlin, Harry, you're beginning to sound like Granger! Why are you getting so worked up over this all of a sudden? We both have done magic these past few days and nothing has happened, nor has anybody shown up, so can we agree that this place is not under observation and I'm not being followed?"

"I guess you're right." Harry shrugged. "I was just wondering why Hermione was so adamant about it, that's all."

"It's a little late to be concerned about that. You should have thought of that before you Apparated us both back here this morning. Wandless magic is powerful."

"Why would it be more powerful than magic involving a wand? And I didn't Apparate us."

"Don't be daft. I certainly didn't, so it must have been you."

"Well, yes, I did, I guess, in a way. Not on purpose, though."

"How do you mean?"

"I, well, er, this used to happen when Dudley and his friends were after me, in school. They'd chase me and suddenly I'd be somewhere safe, on top of the school roof one time. Caused quite a stir, that one."

"How would that explain what happened this morning?"

"I don't know. Maybe it was wishful thinking."

"You're giving me another headache. What does wishful thinking have to do with a rooftop?"

"Who's being daft now? I… In the park, when we… I was uncomfortable and I wanted to be back home. This isn't working."

"You're right. It's not."

"What? Where are you going? What are you doing?"

"I am not going to spend another uncomfortable night with you in this bed. Granger's Law be damned. _Engorgio!_ Here, that's better."

"Much better. Thanks. Why didn't you do that the other night?"

"Because I couldn't reach my wand."

"Right. Your _wand_. – Are you sure you want to take a nap?"

"Are you?"

"No."

"Then what are we doing in bed?"

"Hmmm… Let me think about that…"

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

Harry carefully disentangled himself from Draco and turned onto his side. Pressing his back against the solid warmth of Draco's body, he stared into the dark.

Magic...

How would it be to do magic again?

To light candles with a flick of his wrist and a swish of his wand.

To live without television, computer, washing machine, refrigerator, or toaster. No more hectic masses, no more traffic and noise and dirt. No more machines.

To Firetalk instead of using a telephone.

To Floo or Apparate. – No more undergrounds, buses, taxicabs, cars or motorcycles – except maybe Sirius' enchanted Harley. He wondered how that machine worked and if Draco would like to drive-fly with him.

To fly. Oh, to fly again! If he could still do it. What if his Firebolt no longer jumped into his outstretched hand without the need to even say "up"?

He had become so used to living in this world – he actually enjoyed it for the most part. How would it be to go back to the simple life of the Wizarding world? Did he want to? Did he have to? Who said he had to live in a Wizarding community? Yes, he liked the prep-school idea, and yes, Grimmauld Place would be convenient – if he could ever get rid of Sirius' mother –, but did he _have_ to use it? No! He could live wherever he damn well pleased and do what the hell he wanted to. _They_ could. If Draco wanted to.

With a silent sigh, he closed his eyes and turned back around to tuck his head into Draco's shoulder. _Just like in school,_ he thought, smiling, drifting off to the scent of Draco's skin, the sound of his breathing, and the feel of his heartbeat's slow, steady rhythm under his palm.

* * *

**Footnotes:**

1. _Junge Erbsen:_ young peas_. Babykarotten: _baby carrots_. Grüne Bohnen:_ green beans

2. _Buchhandlung Hugendubel_ is one of the largest German book retailers. They offer a variety of books in foreign languages (although I have taken some liberties with the selection Draco and Harry are looking at in this chapter). More info at www. hugendubel. de

3. The movie Harry is referring to is _Kindergarten Cop_ with Arnold Schwarzenegger.


End file.
